The Goats and Gobbin Saor: A Retelling of the Antrim Giant and the Three Brave Goats

High on the wild, wind-lashed cliff tops of the Antrim Hills in Northern Ireland, three brother goats made their home. The cliffs stood like sentinels above the crashing waves of the sea, where winds howled and seagulls cried in the sky. The goats—Tiny, Little, and Large—spent their days leaping from rock to rock, munching on every patch of green grass they could find.

But one day, the grass on their beloved cliffs ran out. The hills had been grazed bare, leaving nothing but scrub and stone. Gazing across the rocky expanse, the brothers saw another cliff in the distance, one lush and sparkling with juicy, vibrant grass. Yet between them and that paradise stood a deep ravine, where a roaring stream cut through the rocks. The only way across was a narrow, creaking bridge, and under that bridge lived the most terrifying giant of the Antrim coast—Gobbin Saor, known to locals by his nickname Gobby, because of his thunderous, echoing voice.

Gobby was famous across the land, not just for his size, but for his voracious appetite—especially for goats! He loved nothing more than goat meat seasoned with black pepper and crushed sea salt. Every creature feared the bridge, for many who tried to cross were never seen again.

Yet hunger left the goats with no choice.

Bravely, Tiny, the smallest brother, decided to cross first. His little hooves went:

Clip, clop, clip, clop—halfway across when a booming voice echoed from beneath the bridge:

“Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum!
Who dares to cross my bridge? Come!”

Tiny’s knees wobbled, but he spoke boldly, “It is I, Tiny. I’m crossing to the other side to find grass. I’m so hungry.”

“So am I!” bellowed Gobby. “I’ll gobble you up in two shakes of a goat’s tail!”

Tiny thought quickly. “Oh, mighty Gobbin Saor, you’d still be hungry if you ate me. I’m far too small! But wait—my bigger brother is coming. He’ll satisfy your giant appetite far better than I.”

The giant squinted, thinking this over, then growled, “GRRR! Fine! Be off with you!”

Tiny scampered across, relieved and safe.

Soon after, Little, the middle brother, set out. His steps echoed on the bridge:

Clip, clop, clip, clop—until Gobby’s roar stopped him in his tracks:

“Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum!
Who goes there on my bridge? Come!”

“It is I, Little,” he said. “I seek the grass on the far cliff.”

Gobby licked his lips. “Ah, you’re larger than the last! I’ll gobble you up in two shakes of a goat’s tail!”

Little answered cleverly, “O Gobbin Saor, while I’m bigger than Tiny, I’m still not large enough to satisfy a giant like you. But my eldest brother is on his way, and he’s the biggest of us all.”

“GRRR! Very well, pass! But this last one better be worth my wait!” Gobby snarled, letting Little go.

Finally, it was Large’s turn. He was the biggest and strongest of the brothers. As he crossed the bridge:

Clip, clop, clip, clop—the now familiar bellow came:

“Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum!
Who treads on my bridge? Speak, you scum!”

“It is I, Large,” the eldest goat replied confidently. “I, too, am searching for the green grass beyond.”

Gobby’s eyes widened. “Ah, at last! You’re as big as a fat sheep and will make a feast fit for a giant! But first, wait here while I fetch my salt and pepper.”

Large watched as Gobby disappeared beneath the bridge, rummaging for his grotesque giant-sized tray, with a massive green salt cellar, a towering red pepper grinder, a giant blue-and-white plate, a huge shiny fork, and a knife so large it shimmered like a blade of moonlight.

Fear prickled Large’s spine, but instead of freezing, he steeled himself. As soon as Gobby returned, chuckling greedily, Large pawed the ground, built up his strength, and charged.

With a mighty leap, Large lowered his horns and struck Gobby squarely in the stomach, tossing the giant high into the air. Gobby flew up like a boulder from a catapult and crashed down into the stream below with a monstrous:

SPLASH! CRASH!

The waves roared, the wind howled, and a sudden powerful gust swept Gobby down the stream. Before long, a towering wave carried him out to the sea where he was never seen again.

From that day on, Tiny, Little, and Large roamed freely across the bridge, feasting on the endless supply of rich green grass on the other side. The goats lived without fear, crossing back and forth whenever they pleased.

But to this day, when a storm lashes the Antrim coast and winds shriek through the cliffs, locals say you can still hear a distant voice howling through the night:

“Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum!”

Moral of the Story:

Brains and courage will always outmatch brute strength and greed. Even the mightiest obstacle can be overcome with clever thinking and bravery.