from Eesti rahwalaulud, compiled by M.J. Eisen (1919)

Matthias Johann Eisen (1857–1934) was the foremost Estonian folklorist of his era — the Estonian counterpart of Elias Lönnrot in Finland. Over a career spanning six decades, Eisen collected, classified, and published tens of thousands of Estonian folk songs, fairy tales, legends, and proverbs. His 1919 anthology Eesti rahwalaulud (Estonian Folk Songs) gathers the essential corpus of Estonian oral poetry into a single volume: cosmogonic songs, celestial myths, songs of the dead, lyric poetry, work songs, wedding songs, laments, and seasonal celebrations — all in the ancient regilaul (alliterative song) meter that Estonians share with the Finnish and Karelian traditions.

The songs presented here are drawn from Section I of Eisen's collection, the Jutustavad laulud (Narrative Songs). They represent the mythological core of Estonian folk religion: the creation of the world from a bird's eggs; the cosmic oak that grows to heaven and must be felled; the sky-maiden who sits on the edge of the world illuminating half the land; the smith who makes a golden woman and cannot wake her; the fish that speaks and reveals itself as a maiden; the cosmic ox so vast a squirrel runs a month along its spine; and the orphan daughter who visits her mother's grave and begs her to rise. These songs are the Estonian counterparts of myths found across the entire Finno-Ugric world — the bird-creation motif of Kalevala Canto 1, the Finnish Iso tammi (Great Oak), the Finnish Suuri härkä (Great Ox), the celestial courtship of the Salme tradition — but here they live in their raw folk-song form, not as literary epic but as the songs that Estonian women and men actually sang.

Eisen's collection was published in two editions (Kuressaare, 1919; Tallinn, 1919) and has never been translated into English. The source text is drawn from the archive.org digitization (identifier: eestirahwalaulud00eiseuoft) of the Djvu text extraction. The Estonian uses archaic orthography: "w" for modern "v", "ks" for modern "ks", and dialectal verb forms. Eisen included brief word-explanations (Sõnade seletus) after certain poems, attributed to Dr. Jakob Hurt — the great Estonian folklorist who preceded Eisen — which are noted here but not included in the body. This translation is independently derived from the Estonian source text. No prior English translation is known.

I. Creation Songs

Loomine — Creation

I went, I went, I walked, I walked.
I went down to the edge of the sea,
Pushed the ship onto the sand,
The boat into the shallows.
I began to sweep the sea,
To harrow the shores of the sea.
I swept the sweepings into the water,
The broad shavings into the waves.

What stirs there among the sweepings
And what flutters there in the waves?

A grey-speckled little bird,
Red-speckled teeth in its mouth —
It stirred there among the sweepings,
It fluttered there in the waves.
It began to fly from the waves,
Flew into our paddock;
In our paddock were three bushes:
One was of gold, the second of silver filigree,
The third of green silver.
It flew around the golden bush,
Once around the silver bush,
Began to love the silver,
Began to build a nest:
"Here I must build my nest,
Here I must lay my eggs,
Hatch my dear children."

She nested a month, she nested two,
A couple of days beyond the bargain,
She gathered a quarter of the third month,
A week of the fourth month,
A quarter of the fifth month.

She began to lay her eggs.
She laid a month, she laid two,
She laid a quarter of the third month,
A week of the fourth month,
A quarter of the fifth month.

She began to hatch her young,
Hatched a month and hatched two,
Hatched a quarter of the third month,
A week of the fourth month,
A quarter of the fifth month.

She began to feed her young.
She fed a month, she fed a second,
She fed through the third month,
A week of the fourth month,
A quarter of the fifth month.

She began to reckon her young —
What shall come of these children?
She reckoned a month, reckoned a second,
Reckoned through the third month,
A week of the fourth month,
A quarter of the fifth month.

Then she began to scatter her children:
One she set as a juniper on the hill,
The second as a stone upon the field,
The third as a star in the sky,
The fourth as the moon on high,
The fifth as the sun to shine.

How shall we brew ale
Without juniper on the hill?
How shall we cook our beer
Without a stone upon the field?

How shall we reckon the night
Without stars in the sky?
How shall we walk the road
Without the moon in the sky?
How shall we dry the hay
Without the sun shining!

Suur tamm — The Great Oak

Dear sisters, gentle ones,
Let us go sweep the sea,
Harrow the shores of the sea,
Golden brooms in our hands,
Silver broomsticks,
Silken broom-bindings.
Where shall we sweep the sweepings,
Where shall we lay the shavings?
We sweep them into the sea,
We lay them into the waves.

What rose there from the sea?
An oak rose there from the sea —
A tall oak, a thick oak,
A tall oak, a broad oak,
An oak of nine branches,
An oak of eight trunks.

I brought the oak to father's yard,
Planted it for father's delight:
"Grow, oak! Strengthen, oak!
Grow, oak, up to heaven!
Let your branches push into the clouds!
Tremble, broad leaves!
Take root, red roots!"

Then I came the next morning to look
Whether the oak had grown to heaven,
Whether its branches had pushed into the clouds.

The oak had not grown to heaven,
Its branches had not pushed into the clouds.

I brought the oak to brother's yard,
Planted it for brother's delight:
"Grow, oak! Strengthen, oak!
Grow, oak, up to heaven!
Let your branches push into the clouds!
Tremble, broad leaves!
Take root, red roots!"

Then I came the next morning to look
Whether the oak had grown to heaven,
Whether its branches had pushed into the clouds,
Whether the broad leaves trembled,
Whether the red roots had taken hold.

The oak had not grown to heaven,
Its branches had not pushed into the clouds.

I brought the oak to the bridegroom's yard,
Planted it for the bridegroom's delight:
"Grow, oak! Strengthen, oak!
Grow, oak, up to heaven!
Let your branches push into the clouds!
Tremble, broad leaves!
Take root, red roots!"

Then I came the next morning to look
Whether the oak had grown to heaven,
Whether its branches had pushed into the clouds,
Whether the broad leaves trembled,
Whether the red roots had taken hold.

The oak had grown to heaven!
Its branches had pushed into the clouds!
Its leaves extinguished the moon,
Its branches scattered the stars —
The moon was struck into six pieces,
The sky was struck into five pieces.

Dear one, brother,
Companion, beloved —
Whet the axe, hone the sword,
Make the hatchet sharp.
Hew down the iron oak,
The iron oak, the sacred alder!

What shall be made from the oak?
From the stump shall be barrels,
From the ends, casks for ale,
From the middle we gain writing-boards,
From the joints, wine-vats,
From the crown, a song-board for children,
A writing-desk for the clerk,
A speaking-board for the priest,
From the tips, wood for the servants,
From the trunk, a maiden's dowry-chest,
From the leaves — a little bird!

Suur härg — The Great Ox

An ox was brought from the land of the Turks,
A great bull from the land of the Finns,
Who had never gone under the yoke,
Never seen a plow in a hundred years,
Never plowed the earth in ten years.
A thousand fathoms wide across the back,
A hundred fathoms long the horns,
Two fathoms long the hairs,
The hooves a fathom wide.
A month the squirrel ran
Along the spine of the ox,
A day the swallow flew
Between the horns of the ox.
When he bellowed, the sky shook,
When he lowed, the earth trembled.

The ox was great, the ox was thick.
He plowed up the hills, plowed up the pines,
Plowed the spruces into heaps,
Plowed the junipers to the slope,
Laid the pines down flat.

I was left, a man, wondering:
Where shall I find a slaughterer for the ox,
A killer for the great bull?

I sought a slaughterer for the ox,
A killer for the great bull.
I brought a slaughterer from the land of the Turks,
A second slaughterer from the land of Tartu,
A thousand men were upon its back,
A hundred men were upon its horns —
And still they could not kill the ox.

Then came my little brother,
Straight as a straw,
Thin as a reed,
A boy no bigger than a finger —

With his fist he crushed the ox,
With his thumb he pierced its throat.
Blood filled a boat,
Fat filled a great ship,
A thousand barrels of meat.

II. The Daughter of the Sky

Ilmatütar — Daughter of the Sky

A young maiden, a slender girl,
Slender and soft.
She rose in the morning,
Early, before the dawn.
She looked from the doorway across the yard,
Stepped out before the storehouse;
Others had already swept their yard,
Gathered their shavings tidily,
But her yard was still unswept,
Its shavings scattered wide.

She went quickly to her mother,
Stepped before her dear parent:
"Mother dear, gentle one,
Mamma dear, berry-sweet,
Give me the storehouse key,
Turn me the chest-key!"

Mother gave the storehouse key,
Turned into her hand the chest-key.

She went up to the storehouse on the hill,
To the patterned chest's side,
To the white chest upon its stand.
She drew on her lovely shift,
Put on her silver ornaments,
Set at her breast the great brooch,
Bound at her waist the strong belt,
Tied on the blue apron.

A young maiden, a slender girl,
Slender and soft.
She went to make a broom:
A golden broom in the spruce-wood,
A copper broom in the crow's wood,
A silver broom in the alder-grove.
She went a stretch of the forest road,
A stretch of road, a span of land,
And came upon a smooth clearing.
What stood in the middle of the clearing?
An oak in the middle of the clearing.
What was upon the roots of the oak?
Honey-berry, sweet strawberry.
The maiden tasted the honey-berry,
The honey-berry, the sweet berry;
From this the maiden received the world's beauty,
The world's beauty, the day's light.
She sat upon the edge of the world,
Upon the golden side of the moon.
She shone from there over much land,
Much land, a stretch of road.
She shone upon father's stove,
She lit brother's gate —
Half the world she adorned,
Half the realm she illumined.

Who went to call her home,
Who went to urge her homeward?
Father went to call her home,
Father went to urge her homeward:
"Come home, little daughter,
Walk home, golden one!"

The young maiden asked,
The curly-necked one inquired:
"What work is to be done,
What business to be settled?"

Father answered at once,
Told his daughter plainly:
"Come thresh the grain,
Come carry the sheaves!"

The maiden argued back,
Spoke thus to her father:
"Set a rake upon the threshing-floor,
Put gold upon the sheaf-pole.
The rake shall thresh the grain,
The gold shall gather the harvest!"

But the rake did not thresh the grain,
The gold did not gather the harvest.

And she sat upon the edge of the world,
Upon the golden side of the moon.
Half the world she adorned,
Half the realm she illumined.

Who went to call her home,
Who went to urge her homeward?
Mother went to call her home,
Mamma went to urge her homeward:
"Come home, little daughter,
Walk home, golden one!"

The young maiden asked,
The curly-necked one inquired:
"What work is to be done,
What business to be settled?"

The maiden argued back,
The curly-necked one proclaimed:
"Set a headcloth upon the cow,
Put capes upon the herd.
The headcloth shall milk the cow,
The capes shall drive the herd!"

But the headcloth did not milk the cow,
Nor did the capes drive the herd.

And she sat upon the edge of the world,
Upon the golden side of the moon.
Half the world she adorned,
Half the realm she illumined.

Who went to call her home,
Who went to urge her homeward?
Brother went to call her home,
Brother went to urge her homeward:

"Come home, little sister,
Walk home, golden one,
Come tread the bread-dough,
Come strip the linden bark!"

The maiden argued back,
The curly-necked one proclaimed:
"Set a brooch upon the dough,
Leaves on the linden-top.
The brooch shall tread the dough,
The leaves shall strip the linden."

But the brooch did not tread the dough,
And the leaves did not strip the linden.

And she sat upon the edge of the world,
Upon the golden side of the moon.
Half the world she adorned,
Half the realm she illumined.

Who went to call her home,
Who went to urge her homeward?
Sister went to call her home,
Sister went to urge her homeward:
"Come home, little sister,
Walk home, golden one,
The dowry-chest still unfilled,
The gift-chest still unfinished —
Come turn the spinning-wheel,
Come spin the golden thread!"

The maiden argued back,
The curly-necked one proclaimed:
"Set the spinning-wheel upon the chest,
Put embroidery on the chest-lid.
The wheel shall fill the chest,
The embroidery shall adorn it!"

But the wheel did not fill the chest,
And the embroidery did not adorn it.

And she sat upon the edge of the world,
Upon the golden side of the moon.
Half the world she adorned,
Half the realm she illumined.

III. Songs of Making and Transformation

Kullast naine — The Golden Woman

A handsome smith's boy,
A handsome smith, wise as the world,
A handsome smith, clever of land.
He gathered together his father's gold,
Gathered together his mother's gold,
The gold of six brothers,
The silver of the seventh sister,
The copper of five poor children —
Then he made a young woman of gold,
Her other half of silver.

Softly he sat, softly he stepped,
Softly he sat upon the bench,
Softly he stepped to the bed,
Fearing the gold might startle,
The silver might awaken.

Then he went to sleep beside the gold,
Beside the silver in the bed:
What lay against the gold —
That side was cold;
What lay against the blanket —
That side was warm.

He began to rise,
To call the gold to wake;
But the gold would not hear and rise,
The silver would not wake.

Then he brought from Riga a crested cock
To crow at her head,
Then he brought from Sorve a great bull
To bellow at her head,
Then he brought from Parnu a great stallion
To whinny at her head —
To call the gold awake.

Then he took the gold in his arms,
The silver between his coat-flaps,
Brought the gold into the village:
"Village girls, my sisters,
Village boys, my half-brothers,
Look here, women, elders,
Look well, smooth-faced boys —
What does this gold one lack?"

The old women answered back:
"Seven things the gold one lacks:
A tongue in the mouth, a mind in the head,
A round forehead on the brow,
A heart beneath the breast-chain,
Sight inside the eyes,
Hearing in the ears!"

Then he put a fly as a tongue in the mouth,
A bee as a mind in the head,
A mosquito inside as a heart,
Mud upon the brow as a forehead.

Let no other man do this —
Make a young wife of gold,
Her other half of silver!

Then he brought a great sage from Tartu,
Brought him to listen to the gold,
To look upon the silver.
But the gold would not hear and rise,
The silver would not wake.

Kalast neiu — The Fish-Maiden

Lemmik, dear sorrowful boy —
Your father always was ailing,
Your mother always was ailing,
Seven warm summers,
Ten cold winters.
She craved the fish of life,
Desired the herring of Tahku;
She sent her son to fish.

The son went far to fish,
Over the border to Lake Peipus,
Took the silk net upon his back,
The fish-box under his arm.
Then he brought home one great fish.

He cut the fish-head open —
What gleamed from the fish's head?
A wreath gleamed from the head.
He cut along the fish's neck —
At the neck were bright necklaces.
He cut across the fish's breast —
From the breast gleamed a little rose.
He cut the fish at its middle —
At the belt-line was a little belt.

The fish spoke with its tongue:
"I do not come as father's craving-food,
Nor as mother's craving-food;
I come to the land as a maiden,
To hold beauty for the world!"

Mereneitsikene — The Sea Maiden

What runs there past the granary?
A river runs past the granary.
What is caught there in the current?
A whitefish is caught in the current,
A whitefish with a silken tail.

I went to catch the fish.
I struck the fish at its neck —
I saw the pattern of a maiden's necklace.
I struck the fish at its middle —
I saw the pattern of a maiden's belt.
I struck the fish at its tail —
I saw the pattern of a maiden's silk.

I took the fish in my hand,
Squeezed it in my fist,
Carried the fish to the chamber,
Promised to put it in the pot,
In the pot, into the kettle.

The fish spoke with its tongue,
The fish reasoned with its mind:
"Do not put me in the pot,
Do not carry me to the kettle —
I am no fish at all,
I am a maiden of the sea,
A cuckoo for fishermen!
From the cuckoo comes a weaver of cloth,
A maiden makes her husband honey-bread,
For the spouse a roof of copper,
For herself a nature of her own.

Now I shall become your young wife,
From the fish your other half;
I shall be the one to make your bed,
To fluff the soft pillows,
To spread the linen for you,
To watch the berry-bushes,
To keep the apple-garden,
To wear the granary path,
To wear the homeward path!"

"Oh my dear-hearted husband,
My precious, esteemed companion —
Who made your bed before,
Who fluffed the soft pillows before,
Who spread the linen for you before,
Who watched the berry-bushes before,
Who kept the apple-garden before,
Who wore the granary path before,
Who wore the homeward path before?"

"There was my dear cuckoo —
Mother made my bed before,
Fluffed the soft pillows before,
Spread the linen for me before,
Watched the berry-bushes before,
Kept the apple-garden before,
Wore the granary path before,
Wore the homeward path before!"

And where is that mother now?
"Mother was long ago put in the grave,
Mother was long ago taken to the earth!"

IV. Songs of Tree and Forest

Tamme nutt — Weeping of the Oak

I went walking in the forest.
What did I find first in the forest?
I found the oak weeping,
The oak's leaves lamenting,
The oak's branches sighing.

I asked the oak:
"Why do you weep, little oak,
Why do you mourn, oak-leaf,
Why do you sigh, oak-branch?"

The oak spoke to me,
Answered me sorrowfully:
"Other trees are cut down,
Gathered to the homeland.
I am not taken, I am not carried,
I am left behind again —
Left here as an ornament for the world,
A decoration upon the earth!"

I heard, and I answered at once:
"Be still, little oak.
I have at home five brothers,
Each brother has five axes —
They are eager to fell you,
Quick to hew you down!"

Then my five sturdy brothers
Went to fell the oak,
To chop the oak's trunk.
The oak fell with a crash,
The crown broke loose with a crack.
From the stump they made barrels,
From the crown, ship's anchors,
From the halves, horse-stalls,
From the chips, milk-tubs,
From the bark, cream-churns.

V. Songs of the Dead

Eide haual — At Mother's Grave

I had a fine young suitor,
He was a smith's boy,
A Finnish smith's apprentice;
He made me a golden ball,
A golden ball with a handle.
Who went to throw the ball?
I went to throw the ball.
The ball fell into the churchyard,
Fell upon grandmother's grave,
Struck open the doors of the grave,
The grave's doors, the coffin's lid.
Grandmother spoke from the grave:
"Who stirs up there on the sand,
Who steps up there on the grave?"

I, the wise one, understood and answered:
"Upon the grave steps a poor child,
Upon the sand moves a young daughter."
I went down into the grave to look —
What was grandmother doing in the grave?
Grandmother was making new hinges,
New cupboard-doors,
New coffin-lids.
I asked grandmother:
"For whom does grandmother make these hinges,
Fashion these new cupboard-doors,
Carve these coffin-lids?"

Grandmother heard and answered quickly:
"For whom else but for you —
You were left a poor child too young,
Too young among strangers!"

I asked grandmother:
"Why does grandmother stay in the grave?
Can grandmother not come out,
Rise up, step outside?"

Grandmother heard and answered quickly:
"No, my gentle child —
A birch has grown upon my grave,
Globeflowers upon my brow,
Blue flowers upon my eyes,
Rowan-trees upon my chest,
An ash-tree upon my back;
For this I cannot come out,
Cannot come out and be outside!"

Who went to throw the ball?
I went to throw the ball.
The ball fell into the churchyard,
Fell upon mother's grave,
Struck open the doors of the grave,
The grave's doors, the coffin's lid.
I went in to look,
Stepped into the grave to see.

What was mother doing in the grave?
Mother was knitting mittens,
Mother was tying blue stockings,
Mother was shaping the dowry-chest,
Preparing the gift-chest.

I asked mother:
"For whom does mother knit mittens,
Tie the blue-stocking legs?"

Mother heard and answered quickly:
"For whom else but for you —
You were left a poor child too young,
Too young for a stranger to raise!"

"Can you not come out, mother,
Come out and be outside?
Come tie up my chest,
Come finish the dowry-chest!"

"No, I cannot, young daughter,
Cannot rise, and do not promise to.
Grass has grown upon my earth,
Meadow-grass upon my grave,
Blue flowers upon my eyes,
Globeflowers upon my brow,
St. John's flowers upon my feet,
Thistles even on my forehead!"

"Rise all the same, dear mother —
I shall bring a scythe from Viru,
Mow the grass from the soil,
The meadow-grass for the cattle,
The blue flowers for the goats,
The globeflowers for the kids,
The St. John's flowers for the sheep,
The thistles for the rams!"

"I cannot rise, young daughter,
Cannot rise and do not promise to:
Sand presses down my limbs,
Earth crushes my lips,
Gravel weighs upon my eyes,
A little stone upon my brow!"

"Rise all the same, dear mother,
Rise all the same and promise to —
I shall bring a sand-sieve from the town,
A loose sieve from the village,
An earth-sieve from other lands,
A gravel-sieve from the island,
A stone-sieve from the hilltop —
I shall sieve the sand onto the town-road,
Sieve the earth to other lands,
Sieve the gravel to the marsh,
The little stones onto the hill!"

"I cannot rise, young daughter,
Cannot rise and do not promise to —
I have the smell of earth upon my roots,
The smell of the dead upon my sides,
The smell of death upon my back!"

"Rise all the same, dear mother,
Rise all the same and promise to —
I shall take you to be birch-whisked in Viru,
To the Finnish sauna to take steam,
I shall wash the earth-smell from the roots,
Scrub the death-smell from the sides,
Whisk the grave-smell from the back,
Brush the burial-smell from the body!"

"I cannot rise, young daughter,
Cannot rise and do not promise to —
I was put in the grave long ago,
I was taken to the earth long ago:
Two of my neck-bones are broken,
Seven of my spine-bones broken,
Ten of my rib-bones broken,
My heart is eaten by beetles,
My liver by black worms,
My lips gnawed by serpents,
My flesh consumed by snakes.
Stone below me, stone above me,
Cold stone beneath my side,
Another stone at my feet,
A third stone under my head!
Who has ever seen it before,
Ever seen or ever heard,
That the dead come walking home,
Cold-footed into the chamber!
May God himself tie up your chest,
May Mary herself prepare your dowry!"

I went home with a heavy heart,
A heavy heart, a bitter tongue.
What is the use of living for me!
I have no father, I have no mother,
I have no true teacher,
I have no golden guardian!

Colophon

These nine mythological folk songs are drawn from the narrative section (Jutustavad laulud) of Matthias Johann Eisen's Eesti rahwalaulud (Estonian Folk Songs), published 1919 in Kuressaare and Tallinn. The source text is the archive.org digitization of the Djvu text extraction (identifier: eestirahwalaulud00eiseuoft). The Estonian uses archaic orthography (e.g. "w" for modern "v"). Eisen's brief word-explanations (Sõnade seletus), attributed to Dr. Jakob Hurt, have been omitted from the body; they concern dialectal vocabulary.

These songs have never before appeared in English translation. The translations are independently derived from the Estonian source text. The Salme celestial courtship song in Eisen's collection (lines 602–752 of the source) is omitted here as a variant of the Salme tradition already archived from the earlier Neus 1850 collection (see The Salme Songs).

The creation myth (Loomine) shares the cosmic-bird-and-egg motif with Kalevala Canto 1; the Great Oak (Suur tamm) parallels the Finnish Iso tammi; the Great Ox (Suur härg) parallels the Finnish Suuri härkä. These are the Estonian expressions of pan-Finno-Ugric cosmogonic traditions. The Daughter of the Sky (Ilmatütar) is a uniquely Estonian celestial myth with no close parallel in Finnish tradition, though the motif of the maiden sitting on the edge of the world echoes Baltic mythological themes. The Golden Woman (Kullast naine) is a widespread Baltic-Finnic creation-failure motif. The songs of the dead — particularly Eide haual — preserve the Estonian underworld theology of Tooni (Tuonela), the realm of the dead, in extraordinary detail.

Compiled and formatted for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026.

Translated from Estonian by Viru, Sub-Miko of Tianmu, 2026.

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Source Text: Eesti rahwalaulud (M.J. Eisen, 1919)

Estonian source text from the archive.org digitization of Eisen's Eesti rahwalaulud (1919), identifier eestirahwalaulud00eiseuoft. Archaic orthography preserved as found. Presented here for reference, study, and verification alongside the English translation above.

Loomine

Läksin, läksin, käisin, käisin.
Läksin alla mere äärde,
Lükkasin laeva liivikusse,
Paadi alla abajasse.
Hakkasin merda pühkimaie.
Mere ääri äestamaie.
Pühkisin pühkmed meresse,
Laiad laastud laenetesse.

Mis seal pühkmessa pupitseb
Ja seal laenessa lapitseb?

Hallikirju linnukene,
Punase kirjud hambad suussa,
See seal pühkmessa pupitses.
Ja seal laenessa lapitses.
Hakkas laenest lendamaie.
Lendas meie kopli alla;
Meie koplis kolmi põõsast.
Üks oli kulda, teine karda,
Kolmas haljasta hõbedat:
Lendas ümber kuldapõõsa.
Korra ümber kardapõõsa,
Hakkas hõbet armastama,
Hakkas pesa pesitama:
"Siia pean pesa pesima.
Siia pean munad munema,
Pojad armsad haudumaie".

Pesis kuu, pesis kaksi,
Paari päeva peale kauba
Kogus kortel kolmat kuuda,
Nädaliku neljat kuuda,
Veerandiku viiet kuuda.

Hakkas mune munemaie.
Munes kuu, munes kaksi.
Munes kortel kolmat kuuda,
Nädaliku neljat kuuda,
Veerandiku viiet kuuda.

Hakkas poegi haudumaie,
Haudus kuu ja haudus kaksi,
Haudus kortel kolmat kuuda,
Nädaliku neljat kuuda,
Veerandiku viiet kuuda.

Hakkas poegi söötemaie.
Söötis kuu, söötis teise.
Söötis kuu kolmandama,
Nädaliku neljat kuuda,
Veerandiku viiet kuuda.

Hakkas poegi arvamaie,
Mis neist poegist saadanekse?
Arvas kuu, arvas teise,
Arvas kuu kolmandama,
Nädaliku neljat kuuda,
Veerandiku viiet kuuda

Siis hakkas poegi pillutama,
Ühe pani kadakaks mäele.
Teise kiviks põllu peale.
Kolmanda täheks taevasse,
Neljanda kuuks kõrgesse,
Viienda päevaks paistemaie.

Kudas seda kalja hautatakse.
Kui pole kadakat mäella,
Kudas seda virret keedetakse.
Kui pole kivi põllu pealla,

Kudas seda ööda arvatakse,
Kui pole tähti taevassa,
Kudas seda teeda käidanekse,
Kui pole kuuda taevassa,
Kudas seda heina kuivatakse,
Kui pole päeva paistemassa!

Suur tamm

Õekesed hellakesed,
Lähme merda pühkimaie,
Mere äärta äigamaie,
Luuad kuldased käessa,
Hõbedased luuawarred,
Siidised luua sidemed.
Kuhu me pühkmed pühime,
Kuhu me laastud laome?
Pühime pühkmed meresse,
Laome laastud lainetesse.

Mis sealta meresta tõusis?
Tammi sealt meresta tõusis,
Tammi pikka, tamme paksu.
Tammi pikka, tamme laia,
Tammi üheksatharune,
Tammi kaheksakandine.

Viisin tamme isa õue.
Istutin isa iluksi:
Kasva tammi, jõua tammi,
Kasva tammi taevaasse,
Oksad pilvesse pugege!
Lõdisege lehed laiad,
luurduge punased juured!"

Siis tulin homme vaatamaie,
Kas on tammi taeva kasvand,
Oksad pilvesse pugenud.

Ei olnd tammi taeva kasvand,
Oksad pilvesse pugenud.

Viisin tamme venna Õue,
Istutin venna iluksi:
Kasva tammi, jõua tammi.
Kasva tammi taevaasse,
Oksad pilvesse pugege,
Lõdisege lehed laiad,
luurduge punased juured!

Siis tulin homme vaatamaie.
Kas on tammi taeva kasvand.
Oksad pilvesse pugenud,
Lõdisevad lehed laiad,
luurdunud punased juured?

Ei olnd tammi taeva kasvand,
Oksad pilvesse pugenud.

Viisin tamme peiu õue,
Istutin peiu iluksi:
Kasva tammi, jõua tammi.
Kasva tammi taevasse.
Oksad pilvesse pugege,
Lõdisege lehed laiad,
luurduge punased juured!

Siis tulin homme vaatamaie,
Kas on tammi taeva kasvand.
Oksad pilvesse pugenud,
Lõdisevad lehed laiad,
luurdunud punased juured?

Tammi kasvand taevaasse,
Oksad pilvesse pugenud.
Lehed kuuda kustutasid.
Teised tähti pillutasid,
Kuu pidi lööma kuueks tükiks,
Taeva lööma viieks tükiks.

Hellakene, vennakene,
Kaasakene, kallikene.
Ihu kirves, häili mõõka,
Tee tapper teravaksi.
Raiu maha raudatammi,
Raudatammi, hiieleppa!

Mis sest tammesta tehakse?
Tüükast tehaks tünderida,
Otsast õlle ankurida.
Keskelt saame kirjalaudu,
Vahelt viinavaatisida,
Ladvast laste laululauda,
Kõsterile kirjalauda,
Papile pajatislauda,
Otsast saab orilapuida.
Varrest neiu veimevakka,
Lehtedesta linnakene!

Suur härg

Toodi härga Türgimaalta,
Suuri sõnni Soomemaalta,
Kes pole iial ikkes käinud,
Sajal aastal sahka näinud,
Kümnel aastal künnud maada.
Tuhat sülda turja laia,
Sada sülda sarved pikad,
Kaksi sülda karvad pikad,
Sõrad sülla laiusedki.
Kuu aega orav jooksis
Härja selgaroodu mööda,
Päeva lendas pääsukene
Härja sarvede vahella.
Kui ta ammus, taevas kõikus,
Kui ta moiras, maa värises.

Härg oli suuri, härg oli paksu.
Kündis mäed, kündis männid.
Kündis kummule need kuused.
Kündis kallule kadakad,
Pedakad päris pikali,

Mina jäin meesi mõtlemaie:
Kust saan härja tappajada.
Suure sõnni surmajada?

Otsin härja tapajada.
Suure sõnni surmajada.
Tõin ma tapja Türgimaalta,
Teise tapja Tartumaalta,
Tuhat meest oli turjassagi,
Sada meest oli sarvessagi,
Ei saand härga ära tappa.

Tuli mu väike vennakene,
Õlekõrre õigukene.
Pilliroo peenikene,
Sõrmesuurune poisike,

Rusikal ta rudjus härja,
Pöidlaga ta pistis kurku,
Verda sai venegi täie,
Rasva suure laeva täie,
Tuhat tündrida lihada.

Ilmatütar

Neiukene noorukene,
Noorukene, nõrgakene.
Tõusis üles homikulla,
Vara enne valgeeda.
Vaatas uksest üle õue,
Astus aida ette välja,
Muil oli muru ju pühitud.
Laastud labidale pandud,
Nende muru pühkimata,
Laastud laial lohakile.

Läks aga kärmesti emale,
Astus oma eide ette:
"Emakene, hellakene,
Mammakene, marjakene.
Anna mulle aida võti.
Keera mulle kirstu võti!"

Ema andis aida võtme.
Keeras kätte kirstu võtme.

Läks aga aida mäele.
Kirju kirstu külje peale,
Vaka valgee varale.
Ajas selga armsa hame.
Pani peale hõbe ehted,
Säädis rinda suure sõle.
Köitis vööle vahva vöö.
Pani ette sinipõlle.

Neiukene noorukene.
Noorukene, nõrgakene.
Läks aga luuda tegemaie,
Kuldaluuda kuusikusse,
Vaskiluuda varikusse,
Hõbeluuda lepikusse.
Läks aga tüki metsa teeda,

Tüki teeda, pala maada,
Tuli vasta sile sööti.
Mis seal söödi keskeella?
Tammi söödi keskeella.
Mis selle tamme juure pealla?
Mesimari, magus maasik.
Neiu maitses mesimarja,
Mesimarja, magust marja;
Sest sai neiu ilmailu,
Ilmailu, päevavalu.
Istus ilma veere peale,
Kuu kulla poole peale.
Paistis sealta palju maada,
Palju maada, tüki teeda.
Paistis isa paja peale.
Valgus venna väravasse,
Poole ilma ta ilustas.
Poole valdagi valgustas.

Kes läks koju kutsumaie,
Kes läks maija manitsema?
Isa läks koju kutsumaie,
Isa läks maija manitsema:
"Tule koju, tütrekene,
Kõnni koju, kullakene!"

Neiu noori pärimaie,
Kudruskaela küsimaie:
"Mida tööda tegemaie,
Mida asja ajamaie?"

Isa varsti vastamaie.
Tütrele ju tunnistama:
"Tule rehte peksamaie,
Kõnni kooti kandamaie!"

Neiu wasta vaidlemaie,
Nõnda ütlema isale:
"Vii resti rehe peale.
Pane kulda koodi peale.
Küll see resti peksab rehe.
Küll see kulda kogub vilja!"

Ei see resti peksnud rehte,
Ei see kulda kogund vilja.

Ise istus ilma veere pealla,
Kuu kulla poole pealla,
Poole ilma ta ilustas.
Poole valdagi valgustas.

Kes läks koju kutsumaie,
Kes läks maija manitsema?
Ema läks koju kutsumaie.
Mamma maija manitsema:
"Tule koju, tütrekene.
Kõnni koju, kullakene!"

Neiu noori pärimaie,
Kudruskaela küsimaie:
Mida tööda tegemaie,
Mida asja ajamaie.

Neiu vasta vaidlemaie,
Kudruskaela kuulutama:
"Vii linik lehma peale,
Kapetadki karja peale.
Küll see linik lüpsab lehma.
Karja saadavad kapetad!"

Ei see linik lüpsnud lehma,
Saatnud karja ei kapetad!

Ise istus ilma veere pealla,
Kuu kulla poole pealla,
Poole ilma ta ilustas.
Poole valdagi valgustas.

Kes läks koju kutsumaie,
Kes läks maija manitsema?

Vend läks koju kutsumaie,
Vend läks maija manitsema.

"Tule koju, õekene,
Kõnni koju, kullakene,

Tule sõõrdu sõtkumaie,
Lenda leppa laasimaie!"
Neiu vasta vaidlemaie,
Kudruskaela kuulutama:
"Pane sõlgi sõõru peale,
Lehed lepa ladva peale,
Küll see solge sõtkub sõõru,
Lehed laasivadki lepa."

Ei see solge sõtkund sõõrdu.
Ei need lehed laasind leppa.

Ise istus ilma veere pealla.
Kuu kulla poole pealla,
Poole ilma ta ilustas,
Poole valdagi valgustas.

Kes läks koju kutsumaie,
Kes läks maija manitsema?
Õde läks koju kutsumaie,
Õde maija manitsema:
"Tule koju, õekene,
Kõnni koju, kullakene,
Veimewakk valmistamata,
Annivakk arendamata,
Tule vokki veeretama.
Kullast lõnga ketramaie!"

Neiu vasta vaidlemaie,
Kudruskaela kuulutama:
"Vii see vokki vaka peale,
Kiri kirstu kaane peale.
Küll see vokki täidab vakka,
Küll see kiri kiidab kirstu!"

Ei see vokki täitnud vakka,
Ei see kiri kiitnud kirstu.

Ise istus ilma veere pealla,
Kuu kulla poole pealla.
Poole ilma ta ilustas.
Poole valdagi valgustas.

Kullast naine

Ilus seppa poisikene,
Ilus seppa ilmatarka,
Ilus seppa maakavala.
Kokku pani isade kulla.
Kokku pani emade kulla,
Kokku kulla kuue venna,
Seitseme õe hõbeda,
Vase viie vaese lapse,
Siis tegi kullast naise noore,
Hõbedasta teise puole.

Hilju ta istus, hilju ta astus,
Hilju istus istemile,
Hilju astus voodiisse.
Kartis kulla kohkuvada,
Hõbe üles ärkavada.

Siis läks kullaga magama,
Hõbedaga voodiisse:
Mis oli külgi vasta kulda.
See oli külgi külma külgi,
Mis oli külgi vasta vaipa.
See oli külgi sooja külgi.

Hakkas üles tõusemaie,
Kulda üles hüüdemaie;
Ei see kuld ei kuulnud tõusta.
Hõbedane ärgatagi.

Siis tõi Riiast ristikuke
Pea otsa laulamaie,
Siis tõi Sõrvest suure sõnni
Pea otsa ammumaie.
Siis tõi Pärnust suure pätsi
Pea otsa hirnumaie.
Kulda üles hüüdemaie.

Siis võttis kulla kainalusse,
Hõbe hõlmade vahele,
Viis kulla küla vahele:
"Küla tüdrukud õeksed,
Küla poisid pooled vennad,
Vaadake naised, vanemad,
Silmake poisid siledad,
Mis sel kullal puudunekse?"

Vasta kostsid vanad naised:
"Kuuta kullal puudunekse:
Keelta suhu, meelta pähä,
Otsa oidu ümmargusta,
Südant alla rinnavitsa.
Sisse silma nägemista,
Paha kõrva kuulemista!"

Siis pani kärpse keeleks suhu,
Mesilase meeleks pähä,
Sääse sisse südameksi.
Pori otsa oidudeksi.

Seda ärgu tehku teine meesi.
Et teeb kullast naise noore,
Hõbedasta teise puole!

Siis tõi Tartust suure targa,
Tõi seda kulda kuulemaie,
Hõbedada vaatamaie.
Ei see kuld ei kuulnud tõusta.
Hõbedane ärgatagi.

Kalast neiu

Lemmik, leina poisikene,
Ikka su isake põdes,
Ikka su emake põdes.
Seitse soojada suveda,
Kümme külmada talvekest.
Himustas elukalada,
Tahtis Tahku räimesida;
Ajas ta poja kalale.

Poeg läks kaugele kalale,
Üle piiri Peipisele,
Selga võttis siidivõrgu,
Kalakasti kaenalusse.
Siis tõi ühe suure kala.

Lõikas kala peada puhke,
Mis sealt kala peasta paistis?
Peasta paistis pärjakene.
Lõikas kala kaela aita,
Kaelas olid helmed heledad.
Lõikas kala rinna pealta,
Rinnast paistis roosikene.
Lõikas kala keskeelta,
Oli vöölla vöökene.

Kala keelella kõneles:
Ma'p tule isa himuroaksi;
Ega ema himuroaksi;
Ma tulen maale neiukeseks,
Ilmale ilu pidama!

Mereneitsikene

Mis seal jookseb aita juure?
Jõgi jookseb aita juure;
Mis seal seessa sumatakse?
Sumatakse siiakala,
Siiakala, sidihända.

Läksin kala püüdemaie.
Lõin ma kalal kaela pihta.
Nägin neiu keedi kirja;

Lõin ma kalal keskeelle,
Nägin neiu vööde kirja;
Lõin ma kalal hänna pihta,
Nägin neiu siidikirja.

Võtsin kala kädejee,
Pigistasin pihussegi,
Kandsin kala kamberisse,
Tõotasin patta panna,
Patta panna, katla kanda.

Kala keelella kõneles.
Kala meelella mõistatas:
"Ära mind pane padaje,
Ära kanna katelasse,
Minap olegi ju kala,
Olen mereneitsikene.
Kalameeste käokene!
Kaost saab kanga kuduja.
Neid teeb mehel mesileiba.
Kaasal kaane vaselise.
Omal isesugumase.

Nüüd saab mulle naine noori,
Kalast mulle teine pooli;
Jääd mul sängi säädajaksi.
Pehme padja peksajaksi.
Lina mulle laotajaksi,
Marjavarre vahtijaksi,
Õunaaia hoidijaksi,
Aidatee arutajaksi,
Kojatee kulutajaksi!"

"Oh minu meesi meeleline,
Kaasa kalliarvuline.
Kes su sängi enne säädis,
Pehmed padjad enne peksis,
Lina sulle enne laotas,
Marjavarred enne vahtis,
Õunaaeda enne hoidis,
Aidatee enne arutas,
Kojatee enne kulutas?"

"Oli mu kallis käokene,
Ema enne sängi säädis,
Pehmed padjad enne peksis,
Lina mulle enne laotas,
Marjavarred enne vahtis,
Õunaaeda enne hoidis,
Aidatee enne arutas,
Kojatee enne kulutas!"

Kus see ema nüüd on jäänud?
"Ema ammu hauda pandud.
Ema muiste mulda viidud!"

Tamme nutt

Läksin metsa kõndimaie.
Mis ma metsast eesta leidsin?
Leidsin tamme nuttemassa,
Tamme lehed kinamassa,
Tamme oksad õhkamassa.

Mina aga tammelt küsimaie:
"Miks sa nutad, tammekene,
Leinad tamme lehekene,
Ohkad tamme oksakene?"

Tamm aga mulle ütlemaie,
Haledasti vastamaie:
"Muida puida raiutakse.
Kodumaale korjatakse.
Mind ei võeta, mind ei viida,
Minda jälle jäetakse,
Siia ilma iluduseks,
Maa peale maaliksigi!"

Mina kuulsin, kostsin kohe:
"Ole väita, tammekene.
Mul on kodu viisi venda.
Igal vennal viisi kirvest,
Need on tamme tahtemassa,
Rabedamat raiumassa!"

Siis mu viisi virka venda
Läksid tamme tappamaie,
Tamme tüvi tümitama.
Tamm läks maha mütsatie,
Latv läks lahti laksatie
Tuvist tehti tünderida,
Ladvast laeva ankruida.
Poolest hooste tallisida,
Pinnast piima püttisida,
Koorest koore kirnusida.

Eide haual

Oli mul peeni peiukene,
See oli sepa poisikene,
Soome sepa sellikene,
See tegi mulle kuldse kurni,
Kuldse kurni varrekese.
Kes läks kurni viskamaie?
Ma läksin kurni viskamaie.
Kurn kukkus kirikuaeda,
Kukus Äti haua peale,
Lõi aga lahti haua uksed.
Haua uksed, kirstu kaaned.
Ätt aga hauast kõnelema:
"Kes seal liigub pealla liiva,
Kes seal astub pealla haua?"

Mina tarka mõistsin, kostsin:
"Haual astub vaene lapsi,
Liival liigub tütar noori."
Läksin hauda vaatamaie,
Mis see Ätt seal hauas tegi:
Ätt tegi uusi telgesida,
Uue kapi uksesida.
Uue kirstu kaanesida.
Mina Ätilt küsimaie:
Kellel Ätti teeb need teljed.
Loob need uued kapi uksed,
Kirstu kaaned kirjutoleb?

Ätti kuulis, vastas varsti:
"Kelle muule kui sinule,
Sa jäid vara vaeseks lapseks,
Vara võõraste varale!"

Mina küsima Ätilta:
"Miks see Ätti jääb hauda.
Kas ei Ätt või välja tulla.
Üles tõusta, välja astu?"

Ätti kuulis, kostis kärmelt:
"Ei, minu hella lapsukene,
Kask mul kasvand kalmu peale,
Kullerkupud kulmudele.
Sinililled silmadele,
Pihtade peale pihlakad.
Saarepuu see selja peale;
Sest ei või ma välja tulla,
Välja tulla, väljas olla!"

Kes läks kurni viskamaie?
Ma läksin kurni viskamaie.
Kurn kukus kirikuaeda.
Kurn läks memme haua peale,
Lõi aga lahti haua uksed,
Haua uksed, kirstu kaaned.
Ma läksin sisse silmitsema,
Astsin hauda vaatamaie.

Mis see memme tegi hauas?
Memme kudus kindaaida,
Memme sõlmis sinisukke.
Memme vaalis veimevakka.
Pani valmis annivakka.

Mina memmelt küsimaie:
"Kellel memme kindaid kujub,
Sõlmib sinisuka sääri?"

Memme kuulis, kostis kärmelt:
"Kelle muule kui sinule.
Sa jäid vara vaeseks lapseks.
Vara võõral võõrutada!"

"Eks sa memm või välja tulla.
Välja tulla, väljas olla?
Tule mu kirstu kinnitama,
Veimevakka valmistama!"

"Ei või, ei või, tütar noori.
Ei või tõusta, ei tõota.

Muru mul kasvand mulla peale,
Aruheina haua peale,
Sinililled silma peale,
Kullerkupud kulmu peale,
Jaanililled jalge peale,
Ohakadki otsa peale!"

"Tõuse ikka, memmekene.
Ma toon Virusta vikati,
Muru niidan mullikile,
Aruheina härgadele,
Sinililled sikkudele.
Kullerkupud kitsedele,
Jaanililled lammastele,
Ohakadki oinastele!"

"Ei või tõusta, tütar noori.
Ei või tõusta, ei tõota:
Liiv mull litsub liikmeida,
Muld mul muljub mokkasida.
Sõmer rõhub silma pealla.
Kivikene kulmu pealla!"

"Tõuse ikka, memmekene,
Tõuse ikka ja tõota:
Ma toon linnast liiva sõela,
Alevista harva sõela,
Muilta mailta mulla sõela,
Saaresta sõmera sõela,
Kingu otsast kivi sõela
Sõelun liiva linnateele.
Sõelun mulla muile maile.
Sõelun sõmera sohuje.
Kivikesed kingu peale!"

"Ei või tõusta, tütar noori,
Ei võitõusta, ei tõota!
Mul on juures mulla haisu,
Küljes on mul koolja haisu.
Seljas on mul surma haisu!"

"Tõuse ikka, memmekene,
Tõuse ikka ja tõota,
Ma viin vihtlema Virusse,
Soome sauna leile saama,
Mõsen juurest mulla haisu,
Pesen küljest koolja haisu,
Vihtlen seljast surma haisu.
Harin ihust haua haisu!"

"Ei või tõusta, tütar noori.
Ei võitõusta, ei tõota.
Mind on ammu hauda aetud,
Mind on muiste mulda pandud,
Kaks mul kätki kaelaluuda.
Seitse katki seljaluuda
Kümme katki küljeluuda.
Süda söödud sitikilta.
Maksa musta mardikilta,
Huuled ussi uuristatud.
Liha madude lõpetud.
Paas mul alla, paas mul pealla.
Kivi külma külje alla,
Teine kivi jalutsissa.
Kolmas kivi pea alla!
Kes on seda enne näinud,
Enne näinud, muiste kuulnud,
Et need kooljad kodu käivad,
Külmajalad kamberissa!
Jumal su kirstu kinnitagu,
Maarja vakka valmistagu!"

Läksin koju kurval meelel,
Kurval meelel, halval keelel,
Mis maksab minul elada!
Pole mul isa, pole mul ema.
Pole mul õiget õpetajat.
Pole mul kulla kaitsjada!

Source Colophon

Source text: M.J. Eisen, Eesti rahwalaulud (Estonian Folk Songs), Kuressaare: T. Liiwi trükk / Tallinn: G. Pihlaka, 1919. Public domain. Digitized by Google Books, extracted via archive.org Djvu text (identifier: eestirahwalaulud00eiseuoft). The above Estonian text preserves Eisen's archaic orthography, including dialectal forms and the older "w" for modern "v". OCR artifacts (double-spacing, garbled characters) have been silently corrected against the original where unambiguous.

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