The Tale of Cockaigne

Far beyond the mountains, across seven seas and through forests that no map has ever charted, there lies a wondrous land called Cockaigne. It is a place spoken of in whispers by travelers and dreamers, where every heart’s desire is fulfilled and every belly is always full.

In the land of Cockaigne, the very ground beneath your feet is made of the finest gingerbread, soft and sweet and always fresh. The walls of every house are built from sugar candy, and the roofs are covered with pancakes dripping with honey. When you’re hungry, you need only break off a piece of your home and eat it – and miraculously, a new piece grows back immediately.

The rivers that flow through Cockaigne do not carry water, but the finest wine and the freshest milk. Some streams bubble with chocolate, while others flow with golden honey that never crystallizes. Along the riverbanks grow trees whose fruit are not apples or pears, but fresh-baked bread rolls, meat pies, and pastries of every imaginable kind.

The most remarkable thing about Cockaigne is that no one needs to work. In fact, work is strictly forbidden! The more you sleep and the lazier you are, the richer you become. Every morning, piles of gold coins appear beside the beds of those who have slept the longest and worked the least.

In the fields of Cockaigne, roasted chickens run about with forks stuck in their backs, calling out, “Eat me! Eat me! I’m perfectly cooked!” Geese waddle by with knives and small plates attached to their sides, ready to serve themselves to anyone who’s hungry. Pigs trot along with their sides already sliced into perfect portions, seasoned with the finest herbs.

The trees in Cockaigne bear the most unusual fruit. From one tree hang sausages of every variety, gently swaying in the breeze. Another tree grows shoes and boots of every size and style, always in perfect condition. A third tree produces clothing that fits whoever picks it, always in the latest fashion and never wearing out.

The weather in Cockaigne is always perfect. It’s never too hot or too cold, too wet or too dry. Sometimes it rains wine, and other times it snows powdered sugar. The wind carries the aroma of fresh-baked bread and roasted meats, making everyone constantly hungry for the delicious foods that surround them.

To reach this marvelous land, however, one must first complete a most unusual task. At the border of Cockaigne stands a mountain made entirely of rice pudding, three miles high and two miles wide. To enter the land, you must eat your way completely through this mountain, consuming every last grain of rice pudding before you can pass through to the paradise beyond.

Once inside Cockaigne, visitors discover that all the normal rules of the world are turned upside down. The old become young, the ugly become beautiful, and the poor become rich – but only if they promise never to work again. Those who insist on being industrious are politely but firmly escorted back to the rice pudding mountain.

In the grand castle at the center of Cockaigne lives the Queen of Idleness, a jolly woman who spends her days lying on cushions made of marshmallow, being fed grapes by helpful butterflies. She governs the land with the simplest of laws: “Do nothing, and everything will be done for you.”

The Queen’s court is filled with the most delightfully lazy courtiers. The Royal Chancellor of Sleeping can snore in seventeen different languages. The Minister of Eating can consume an entire feast without lifting a finger, as the food simply flies into his mouth. The Ambassador of Lying Down has not stood upright in forty-seven years.

The libraries in Cockaigne are filled with books that read themselves aloud. You need only lie on the comfortable reading chairs (which are actually large, soft loaves of bread), and the books will recite their stories to you. The most popular books are cookbooks, which describe meals so vividly that listeners can actually taste the foods being described.

Transportation in Cockaigne is wonderfully easy. The roads are made of smooth butter, making it pleasant to slide from place to place. If you need to travel quickly, you can ride on the back of a giant pretzel that rolls along the buttery roads. For longer journeys, there are ships made of hard cheese that sail on the wine rivers, steered by captains who never need to touch the wheel because the ships navigate themselves.

The entertainment in Cockaigne is spectacular. Every evening, the trees perform concerts, with their leaves rustling in perfect harmony. The flowers dance in the gardens, putting on ballets that would make the finest theaters in the world weep with envy. The clouds in the sky form pictures and tell stories, changing their shapes to illustrate the tales they’re telling.

The schools in Cockaigne teach only the most pleasant subjects. Students learn the art of comfortable lounging, the science of proper napping, and the mathematics of dividing food fairly among friends. The most advanced courses cover the philosophy of leisure and the history of famous lazy people throughout the ages.

Even the animals in Cockaigne live in perfect comfort. The horses wear silk saddles that massage their backs as they walk. The cats sleep on cushions made of soft cheese, and the dogs play with bones made of marzipan that they can both chew and eat. The cows give chocolate milk, and the sheep grow wool that’s already spun into the softest yarn.

The seasons in Cockaigne are all equally delightful. In spring, the flowers bloom into cupcakes and the rain tastes like lemonade. Summer brings trees heavy with ice cream of every flavor, and the warm breeze carries the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. In autumn, the leaves turn into thin wafer cookies that crunch pleasantly underfoot, and winter snow is actually powdered sugar that sweetens everything it touches.

The postal service in Cockaigne is run by trained pigeons who deliver messages written on edible paper made from fruit leather. The letters always contain good news, and after reading them, you can eat them for dessert. The pigeons themselves are quite clever and can write simple replies if needed.

But perhaps the most wonderful thing about Cockaigne is that everyone there is perpetually happy. There are no arguments, no sadness, and no worries. The magic of the land ensures that everyone gets exactly what they need and more of what they want. Generosity flows as freely as the wine rivers, and sharing is as natural as breathing.

However, there is one important rule in Cockaigne: anyone who becomes greedy or tries to hoard more than they can possibly use must leave immediately. The magic of the land only works for those who understand that true abundance comes from sharing freely and appreciating what they have.

The doctors in Cockaigne prescribe the most pleasant treatments imaginable. Feeling sad? The cure is a bubble bath in a tub of warm chocolate. Feeling anxious? Take a nap in a hammock woven from cotton candy. Have a headache? Simply smell the fragrant vanilla forests that grow throughout the land.

And so, dear friends, that is the tale of Cockaigne – a place where laziness is rewarded, abundance flows like water, and every day is a celebration of life’s sweetest pleasures. Some say it’s merely a dream, others insist it’s as real as the ground beneath our feet.

But perhaps the true magic of Cockaigne lies not in reaching such a place, but in remembering that we can create moments of abundance and joy in our own world through kindness, generosity, and the simple pleasure of sharing good things with others.

Whether Cockaigne exists beyond the rice pudding mountain or only in our imaginations, its message is clear: sometimes the greatest riches come not from working harder, but from appreciating the sweetness that already surrounds us and making sure that sweetness is shared with everyone we meet.

Who knows? Maybe if you listen carefully on quiet nights, you can hear the wine rivers of Cockaigne bubbling in the distance, calling to all who dream of a world where abundance and kindness flow as freely as honey from the trees.