What the thrush toils at
The partridge asks for
The hapless one takes
The troubled one steals

Puts upon a spade
Sets on a runner
Hides under a door
Shields with a bath-whisk

The farmer hammers
And tempers his spears
Marries off his sons

Hands out his daughters
In boots clogged with clay
In fancy mittens

The sea-swell rumbles
And the winds it blows
And the king hears it

From five miles away
From six directions
From seven back woods
From eight heaths away

The farmer hammers
And tempers his spears
Marries off his sons

Hands out his daughters
In boots clogged with clay
In fancy mittens

Song Of The Troubled One

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