It was a warm summer evening in Akşehir. Crickets chirped in the grass. The air smelled of figs and warm stone. Nasreddin Hodja picked up his bucket. He walked across the courtyard to the old stone well. His little gray donkey was thirsty, you see. “Fresh water coming right up, my friend,” said Nasreddin. The donkey wiggled his ears. “Hee-haw!” he said.
Nasreddin leaned over the edge of the well. He peered down, down, down. Then he held his breath. There in the water lay the moon! Round and silver, it shone. “Eyvah! Ay kuyuya düşmüş!” cried Nasreddin. “Oh no! The moon has fallen into the well!” The donkey pricked up his ears. Nasreddin looked again. There was no doubt about it. The moon was floating down there.
Together: Call out together: “Oh no! The moon has fallen into the well!”
“What will we do without the moon?” said Nasreddin. “Who will light the road for travelers? How will children find their way home at night?” Just then, the courtyard gate rattled. Elif and Can from next door peeked in. “What’s the matter, Hodja?” asked Elif. Nasreddin pointed into the well. “Oh no! The moon has fallen into the well!” The children looked down. Can’s eyes grew big. “We’ll help you!” he cried.
Can fetched a long rope. Elif brought a hook and the lantern. Nasreddin tied the hook to the rope. Then he lowered it slowly down. Plip! “A little more to the left,” said Elif. “No, to the right!” cried Can. “The moon keeps wobbling!” “Children,” said Nasreddin, “the moon is round. It’s a little bit everywhere.” He stirred the hook around in the water. Splish, splash, splish.
Together: Make the water sounds together: Splish, splash, splish!
All of a sudden — clonk! The hook was stuck. It had caught on a stone. But Nasreddin didn’t know that. “I’ve got it!” he cried. “I’ve got the moon on my hook!” He pulled on the rope. He pulled and pulled and pulled. “The moon is heavy!” puffed Nasreddin. Elif and Can grabbed hold of his robe. Heave-ho! Heave-ho! All three of them pulled with all their might.
Together: Pull along and shout: “Heave-ho! Heave-ho!”
Suddenly the hook slipped off the stone. The rope went light as a feather. And — whump! — all three of them tumbled backward. Nasreddin landed in the soft grass. Elif landed right beside him. Can rolled over once, like a little hedgehog. Nobody was hurt. They lay there, huffing and puffing. Then Can began to giggle. Elif laughed too. And Nasreddin laughed so loudly that the donkey brayed, “Hee-haw!”
Nasreddin lay on his back. He gazed up at the sky. And there, high above Akşehir, shone the moon. Round and silver and bright. “Oh, thank heavens!” said Nasreddin proudly. “We pulled it out just in time!” Elif and Can looked at each other. They put their hands over their mouths. And they giggled and giggled. Because they knew better. And I bet you do too.
Nasreddin drew fresh water from the well. The little gray donkey drank and drank. Slurp, slurp. Then Elif and Can went home. The moon lit the way for them. Akşehir grew quiet. The crickets chirped softly. Silver light lay over the rooftops. Nasreddin looked up at the sky one more time. He winked at the moon. “Stay up there tonight, all right?” he whispered.
