Once upon a time, in days long past, there lived a little cobbler whose name I no longer remember. But he was a merry little cobbler. He sang all day long as he bent over fitting soles and driving nails. And he would stand up and say:

I'm a cobbler, and there's work aplenty. I'm a cobbler, and clever at my trade. With needle and thread I earn my bread. I wake from sleep at break of day. And I go to bed late at night. Or else I'd never find my keep. Oh my! I'm a cobbler, and clever at my trade.

One day there came to the cobbler's shop a strange man with a big black face. He had come on foot all the way from Africa, and so his shoes were worn out. When the cobbler saw his shoe he shook his head in sorrow and said:

I shall try to patch the shoe. I shall try. But be sure that no one but I could do it.

Then he took up his spool of thread and his long, stout needle and his shiny new awl — the best awl he had, with a sharp point that went into rough leather with perfect ease, as a pin goes into paper.

The strange man with the black face sat down beside the little cobbler to watch him. But he soon sank into sleep, and while he snored the cobbler patched the shoe with the awl and the needle and the thread. At last he finished patching the shoe, shook the huge black man by the shoulder, and showed him how much skill he had in his craft. The strange man took his shoe, put it on his feet, and then asked the cobbler:

How much do you want?

The cobbler answered him: Ten piasters. And that is a small fee.

But the strange man scowled and said: You mean you want a hundred millimes. Here they are.

Count them — they may be a millime short.

When he had finished counting, it was time to close his shop, and he began to look for the needle and thread, and found them on the floor. Then he began to look for the shiny new awl. He looked up. He looked down. He searched everywhere. But he found no trace of it. Why? Because the strange black man had stolen it. At this the little cobbler grew very angry indeed and said to himself: I pray God to make a thousand thorns grow on the back of this criminal who stole my awl, and to make those thorns so heavy that he goes on all fours.

By then the sun had set, and there was an ifrit sitting on the doorstep, who said: I agree to that. I agree entirely.

The little cobbler rolled his eyes about in fright, but he saw no one. Yet the next day, as he was walking through the fields, he saw a new kind of animal, the like of which he had never seen before: an animal with a thousand long spines growing on its back like a brush. The little cobbler shook his head and smiled, saying:

So it goes with everyone who steals my awl...