she said, "till I have the medicine the Hen-Wife ordered."

"What is that?" said the king.

"A mouthful of the blood of Billy Beg's bull."

"I can't give you that," said the king, and went away, sorrowful.

Then the queen got sicker and sicker, and each time the king asked what
would cure her she said, "A mouthful of the blood of Billy Beg's bull."
And at last it looked as if she were going to die. So the king finally
set a day for the bull to be killed. At that the queen was so happy that
she laid plans to get up and see the grand sight. All the people were to
be at the killing, and it was to be a great affair.

When Billy Beg heard all this, he was very sorrowful, and the bull noticed
his looks. "What are you doitherin' about?" said the bull to him. So Billy
told him. "Don't fret yourself about me," said the bull, "it's not I
that'll be killed!"

The day came, when Billy Beg's bull was to be killed; all the people were
there, and the queen, and Billy. And the bull was led out, to be seen.
When he was led past Billy he bent his head. "Jump on my back, Billy, my
boy," says he, "till I see what kind of a horseman you are!" Billy jumped
on his back, and with that the bull leaped nine miles high and nine miles
broad and came down with Billy sticking between his horns. Then away he
rushed, over the head of the queen, killing her dead, where you wouldn't
know day by night or night by day, over high hills, low hills, sheep walks
and bullock traces, the Cove o' Cork, and old Tom Fox with his bugle horn.