Book III, Section III of Elias Lönnrot's Kanteletar (1840), translated from the Finnish

From Elias Lönnrot's Kanteletar (1840), Book III, Section III — twenty-nine narrative folk songs collected from the singers of Karelia, Häme, and Satakunta. These are the legendary songs: tales of courtship and rejection, of loss and sorrow, of clever wives and foolish husbands, of Death skiing through the farmstead choosing whom to take. Where the Historical Songs told of wars and murders, these songs tell of daily life elevated to myth — the maiden who refuses every metal suitor until the bread man arrives, the boy who vanishes into the sky with clouds holding his head and his eyes counting the stars, the young wife who beats her worthless husband with firewood and feeds him to the crows. First English translation.

Song 32 — Kesti's Gift

A maiden at Turku bridge tells how a guest once seduced and robbed her. A chain of desires — each small thing wanting something greater — leads to the merchant sailing away and leaving her in Christ's care. A variant ending adds the elk at the spring, whose shed fur grows into trees bearing eternal fortune and eternal love.

Annikkainen, young maiden,
Sat at the end of Turku bridge,
Tended the city's chickens,
Counseled Turku's maidens.

A cloud rose from the northwest,
Another approached from the west.
What rose from the northwest
Comes as a maiden's ship;
What approached from the west
Comes as a guest's ship.

I do not praise the guest's ship:
Already once a guest deceived me,
That whore's son lured me,
Ate my fattened pigs,
Drank my Christmas barrel,
Left behind a small linen shirt.—
My small linen shirt
Wanted a woolen skirt;
My woolen skirt
Wanted a golden belt;
My golden belt
Wanted heavy coins;
My heavy coins
Wanted a young merchant;
My young merchant
Wanted to go to other lands,
To other lands, to foreign ones;
He carried his goods to the ship.
Wind came from that land,
Blew the sail onward.
He himself sat down to depart,
Said as he was leaving:

"I leave you in Christ's care,
In good Mary's dwelling;
Good it is to come again,
Better to return,
To the paths already made,
To roads already begun."

"Whose paths were made,
Whose roads were begun?"—

"Christ's paths were made,
Mary's roads were begun."

In another way Kesti's Gift was sung:

Blew the sail onward,
Carried his fish to the ship.
The elk sweated as it ran,
Drank when it grew thirsty,
From the bubbling spring;
There it dripped its drool,
There it shed its hairs,
There it cast its fine fur;
There grew a beautiful bird cherry,
There sprang a beautiful juniper,
Good fruit on the bird cherry,
Beautiful berries on the juniper.
Whoever took a branch from it
Took eternal fortune;
Whoever cut a leaf from it
Cut eternal love.

"I leave you in Christ's care," etc.

Those middle words, which we have separated from the song, apparently do not belong to it.

Song 33 — The Unwished-For Suitor

A maiden sits weaving a golden belt. Three times the cricket chirps and a call is heard from the village. If her father comes, she will build him a house of gold. If her brother comes, a house of copper. But if it is her suitor — a house of rot, willow pillars, tar for his drink, and a birch club waiting behind a locked door.

A maiden sat at the point of the headland,
Weaving a golden belt,
Working one of silver,
Heard the cricket chirping,
A bird singing in the grove.

"What do you chirp, cricket?
What do you sing, little bird?"

"This the cricket chirps,
This the little bird sings:
A call was heard from the village."

"Who was it calling in the village?
Could I hope it was my father?
If my father were to come,
I would weave a golden house,
I would raise golden walls,
I would lay golden floors,
I would set golden pillars.
I would take father's stallion,
With golden bridles,
With silver headstalls,
I would lead father's stallion
To the stable with the even roof,
To the stall with the thickest beam,
To the ring of the largest size,
I would tie it with a silken cover,
I would arrange a woolen tether,
I would carry oats before it,
I would bring a crust of bread,
Honey-bread for eating,
A measure of ale for drinking;
I would prepare a steamy sauna,
With finest firewood,
With small kindling sticks,
I would fetch a great bucket of water
From the bubbling spring,
I would soften a birch-leaf switch.
Father would bathe to contentment,
Wash himself white and clean!"

A maiden sat at the point of the headland,
Weaving a golden belt,
Working one of silver,
Heard the cricket chirping,
A bird singing in the grove.

"What do you chirp, cricket?
What do you sing, little bird?"

"This the cricket chirps,
This the little bird sings:
A call was heard from the village."

"Who was it calling in the village?
Could I hope it was my brother?
If my brother were to come,
I would build a copper house,
I would raise copper walls,
I would lay copper floors,
I would set copper pillars.
I would take my brother's stallion,
With silken bridles,
With copper headstalls,
I would lead my brother's stallion
To the stable with the even roof,
To the stall with the thickest beam,
To the ring of the largest size,
I would tie it with a silken cover,
I would arrange a woolen tether,
I would carry oats before it,
I would send a crust of bread,
Honey-bread for eating,
A measure of ale for drinking;
I would prepare a steamy sauna,
With finest firewood,
With small kindling sticks,
I would fetch a great bucket of water
From the bubbling spring,
I would soften a birch-leaf switch.
Brother would bathe to contentment,
Wash himself white and clean!"

A maiden sat at the point of the headland,
Weaving a golden belt,
Working one of silver,
Heard the cricket chirping,
A bird singing in the grove.

"What do you chirp, cricket?
What do you sing, little bird?"

"This the cricket chirps,
This the little bird sings:
A call was heard from the village."

"Who was it calling in the village?
Could I hope it was my suitor?
A house of hardship I would make,
Rotten walls I would raise,
Straw floors I would lay,
Willow pillars I would set;
I would take the suitor's stallion,
With leather bridles,
With willow headstalls,
I would tie it by the bridge,
With a dirty linen cover,
A rag of burlap for a blanket,
Clay of mud for eating,
A measure of tar for drinking;
I would heat a tarry sauna
With tarry firewood,
A small bucket of water I would bring,
A dirty switch for steaming:
Let the suitor bathe to contentment,
Wash himself white and clean!
I myself would hurry away,
Close the door behind me,
Look in the day after next,
A birch club in my hand."

Song 34 — Maiden Katri

Katri rises early, visits the Daughter of the Moon and the Daughter of the Sun, borrows their gold and silver for her brow. She falls asleep on enchanted ground. A wretch steals the ornaments. Her mother says: take the storehouse keys, dress in your father's finest — you will grow beautiful again.

Katri, beautiful young maiden,
Rose up early in the morning,
Made five woolen belts,
Eight swaddling bands,
Before the sun had risen,
Before the daylight came.
She went to look at the moon,
To admire the sky,
Heard the Daughter of the Moon weaving,
The Daughter of the Sun spinning;
Then she drew near,
Came close,
Walked along the rim of the moon,
Traveled the edge of the sun:
"Give me your gold, Daughter of the Moon,
Daughter of the Sun, your silver!"

The Daughter of the Moon gave her gold,
The Daughter of the Sun her silver,
She set the gold on her brow,
Put the fine silver on her head,
To gleam like gold,
To shine like silver.
She went to the marsh to paddle,
To the puddle to splash about;
The marsh was full of ale,
The puddle full of mead.
She drank one cup, she drank two,
Quickly sipped a third,
Fell asleep on the fine grass,
Fell down on the sloping ground.
A wretch watched from the brush,
A villain's son from the birch grove,
Took the gold from her brow,
The fine silver from her head;
Katri went weeping home,
Wailing to the yard.
Mother from the storehouse steps:
"Do not weep, my girl!
Take the storehouse keys,
Open your father's chest,
Slide open the bone-white lock,
Put on a linen shirt,
Draw on a woolen skirt,
A belt inscribed with gold!
From that you will grow beautiful,
Rise up fair and fine,
Live as a flower in the lanes,
A berry on your father's lands."

Song 35 — The Maiden of the Island

Three songs (35–37) share a pattern: a young girl goes out, something is taken from her, she weeps home, and her mother consoles. Here the maiden of the island goes to pasture, a thief steals her ornaments, and the mother opens the storehouse. But the mother's speech builds to a vision: the maiden goes to church as a flower, the suitors marvel, and if they could have her — when she walked, her heels would gleam; when she stood, the walls would shine; when she sat, the earth would rejoice.

That fair Maiden of the Island,
Island maiden, Island flower,
Went out small to tend the herds,
As a child to drive the lambs,
When her father's knee was her height,
When her mother's spindle was her measure.
She set gold on her brow,
Blue threads over her eyes,
Silver threads on her head,
Copper threads on her body,
Sat down on a hummock,
Sank into a brushy glade.

A thief watched from the brush,
An angry man from the thicket;
The thief came from the brush,
The angry man from the thicket.
He took the gold from her brow,
The blue threads from her eyes,
The silver threads from her head,
The copper threads from her body.

The poor maiden began to weep,
The wretched one to lament,
Went weeping home,
Wailing to the yard.
Father looked from the window,
Mother from the storehouse steps:
"Why do you weep, my girl,
Young maiden, why do you moan?"

"This I weep for, mother,
This I moan to father:
The thief came from the brush,
The angry man from the thicket,
Took the gold from my brow,
The blue threads from my eyes,
The silver threads from my head,
The copper threads from my body."

"Do not weep, my girl!
Go to the storehouse on the hill,
There chest stands upon chest,
Ark is raised upon ark,
Open the finest chest,
Swing open the decorated lid,
Take six golden belts,
Seven blue garments,
Bind silks over your eyes,
Set gold upon your brow,
Put on the finest clothes,
The most beautiful upon your neck,
The brightest on your breast,
The whitest on your body;
You come from the storehouse to the house,
The pride of all your kindred,
The treasure of your family,
You go to church as a flower;
Then the suitors ask of you:
'Whose flower, whose maiden,
Whose bride is she?'

'The Island's flower, the Island's maiden,
The Island's bride is she.'

'Oh, if I could have such a one,
I would keep her well,
I would feed her in my arms,
I would tend her in my hands!
Oh, if I could have such a one —
When she walked, her heels would gleam,
When she stood, the walls would shine,
When she sat, the earth would rejoice!'"

Song 36 — The Sea-Bather

Anni goes to bathe in the sea — but the first sea is already bathed, the second already bathed, the third half-bathed. She undresses. A pike steals every garment. Her mother says: take the storehouse, dress finer than before.

Anni girl, only maiden,
Went to the shore to wash,
Went to the sea to bathe —
But the sea was already bathed;
She went to a second sea,
That too was already bathed;
She went straight to a third,
Half of it was already bathed,
The other half not yet.

Anni girl, only maiden,
Took off her clothes,
Threw her shirt on the willows,
Her skirt on a branch,
Her stockings on the soft ground,
Her shoes on a stone in the water,
Wound her belt on the bushes,
Her ribbons on the bank,
Her beads on the sandy shore,
Her gloves on the gravel.

A pike came jabbing,
A young salmon came swaying,
It took the shirt from the willows,
The skirt from the branch,
The stockings from the soft ground,
The shoes from the stone in the water,
Took the belt from the bushes,
The ribbons from the bank,
The beads from the sandy shore,
The gloves from the gravel.

Anni went weeping home,
Wailing to the yard.
Her mother heard.
"Do not weep, my girl!
Take the keys to my storehouse,
Go to the storehouse on the hill,
There chest stands upon chest,
Ark is raised upon ark,
Put on the finest clothes,
The whitest on your body,
A linen shirt of Saxon cloth,
Draw on a woolen skirt,
Fine silken stockings,
Beautiful leather shoes,
A belt inscribed with gold,
Ribbons of red thread,
The brightest bead-strings,
The fairest gloves;
Walk as a flower in the lanes,
Move like a cloudberry,
Fairer than before,
Better than of old!"

Song 37 — Helka at Pasture

Helka of Kalevala tends the cattle; wolves and bears devour them. Her mother says: do not weep for cows — weep when the wolves come a second time, as suitors, and the bears come bearing bride-price.

Kalevala's beautiful maiden,
Helka, gentle daughter,
Went out small to tend the herds,
As a child to watch the cattle;
She drove her cows to the grove,
Her calves to the brush;
Death sent many wolves,
the Devil dispatched bears,
They ate her cows in the grove,
Her calves in the brush.

Kalevala's beautiful maiden,
Helka, gentle daughter,
Went weeping home,
Wailing to the yard;
Father asked from the window,
Mother from her storehouse steps:
"Why do you weep, my girl,
My youngest, why do you moan?"

"This I weep for, mother —
I was driving the cows,
I drove my cows to the grove,
My calves to the brush;
Death sent many wolves,
The Devil led bears there,
They ate my cow from the grove,
My calf from the brush."

Then the mother spoke these words:
"Do not weep, my girl!
If Death sent wolves,
The Devil led bears there,
They ate your cow from the grove,
Your calf from the brush —
Weep then, my girl,
When it happens the second time:
Wolves come to these great yards,
Bears come to these homesteads,
Devour my great family,
Take my own blood —
Wolves come as suitors,
Bears as bearers of the bride-price."

Song 38 — Suitors from the Sea

The great refusal song. A maiden waits by the rapids of Turku. Five men rise from the sea: the iron man, the tin man, the copper man, the gold man, and the bread man. She refuses every one — "I was not made, nor fashioned, nor raised at home to be yours" — until the bread man comes. For bread she was born.

A maiden sat on the hill,
By the rapids of Turku,
On a many-colored stone,
On a beautiful cliff.
One summer she sat, the next she wept,
Waited for a man after her heart,
A suitor with sweet words,
A man to match her mind.

An iron man rose from the sea,
Iron mouth, iron head,
Iron purse in hand,
Iron bride-price in the purse.
"Come to me, poor maiden,
To be the iron man's wife!"

"I will not come, I will not care,
I was not made, nor fashioned,
Nor raised at home
To be an iron man's wife."
That man went back into the sea.

A maiden sat on the hill,
By the rapids of Turku,
On a many-colored stone,
On a beautiful cliff.
One summer she sat, the next she wept,
Waited for a man after her heart,
A suitor with sweet words,
A man to match her mind.

A tin man rose from the sea,
Tin mouth, tin head,
Tin purse in hand,
Tin bride-price in the purse.
"Come to me, poor maiden,
To be the tin man's wife!"

"I will not come, I will not care,
I was not made, nor fashioned,
Nor raised at home
To be a tin man's wife."
That man went back into the sea.

A maiden sat on the hill,
By the rapids of Turku,
On a many-colored stone,
On a beautiful cliff.
One summer she sat, the next she wept,
Waited for a man after her heart,
A suitor with sweet words,
A man to match her mind.

A copper man rose from the sea,
Copper mouth, copper head,
Copper purse in hand,
Copper bride-price in the purse.
"Come to me, poor maiden,
To be the copper man's wife!"

"I will not come, I will not care,
I was not made, nor fashioned,
Nor raised at home
To be a copper man's wife."
That man went back into the sea.

A maiden sat on the hill,
By the rapids of Turku,
On a many-colored stone,
On a beautiful cliff.
One summer she sat, the next she wept,
Waited for a man after her heart,
A suitor with sweet words,
A man to match her mind.

A gold man rose from the sea,
Gold mouth, gold head,
Gold purse in hand,
Gold bride-price in the purse.
"Come to me, poor maiden,
To be the gold man's wife!"

"I will not come, I will not care,
I was not made, nor fashioned,
Nor raised at home
To be a gold man's wife!"
That man went back into the sea.

A maiden sat on the hill,
By the rapids of Turku,
On a many-colored stone,
On a beautiful cliff.
One summer she sat, the next she wept,
Waited for a man after her heart,
A suitor with sweet words,
A man to match her mind.

A bread man rose from the sea,
Bread mouth, bread head,
Bread purse in hand,
Bread bride-price in the purse.
"Come to me, poor maiden,
To be the bread man's wife!"

"I will come to you!
I was made for it, fashioned for it,
And raised at home
To be the bread man's wife."

Song 39 — The Weeper in the Clearing

We question the maiden weeping on the sun-warmed stone. Each family member treats her well. Finally we ask about the suitor. "My suitor treated me well — yesterday he courted me, yesterday he died."

A young woman wept in the clearing,
Sobbed on the hay path,
On a many-colored stone,
On a sun-warmed boulder.

We asked her, we questioned:
"Why do you weep, poor maiden,
Poor maiden, young girl —
Who treats you badly?
Does your father treat you badly?"
"My father treats me well."

A young woman wept in the clearing,
Sobbed on the hay path,
On a many-colored stone,
On a sun-warmed boulder.

We asked her, we questioned:
"Why do you weep, poor maiden,
Poor maiden, young girl —
Who treats you badly?
Does your mother treat you badly?"
"My mother treats me well."

A young woman wept in the clearing,
Sobbed on the hay path,
On a many-colored stone,
On a sun-warmed boulder.

We asked her, we questioned:
"Why do you weep, poor maiden,
Poor maiden, young girl —
Who treats you badly?
Does your brother treat you badly?"
"My brother treats me well."

A young woman wept in the clearing,
Sobbed on the hay path,
On a many-colored stone,
On a sun-warmed boulder.

We asked her, we questioned:
"Why do you weep, poor maiden,
Poor maiden, young girl —
Who treats you badly?
Does your sister treat you badly?"
"My sister treats me well."

A young woman wept in the clearing,
Sobbed on the hay path,
On a many-colored stone,
On a sun-warmed boulder.

We asked her, we questioned:
"Why do you weep, poor maiden,
Poor maiden, young girl —
Who treats you badly?
Does your betrothed treat you badly?"

"My betrothed treated me well —
Yesterday he courted me, yesterday he died,
Yesterday indeed he vanished,
Fresh-turned earth now for his dwelling,
Black soil for his cover."

Song 40 — The Ill-Betrothed

The bride weeps on the hill. Her father asks if the father-in-law mistreats her — no, he is kind. Her mother asks about the mother-in-law — she is kind. Her brother, her sister, each ask about the corresponding in-law. All are kind. It is only when the uncle asks about the husband that the truth erupts: "That one is a dog, the very worst of dogs!"

The bride wept on the hill,
Moaned on the path to the well,
Lamented on the road to the spring.
Her father heard.

"Why do you weep, my girl,
My youngest, why do you moan?
Does your father-in-law treat you badly?"

"My father-in-law treats me as well
As my father did at home."

The bride wept on the hill,
Moaned on the path to the well,
Lamented on the road to the spring.
Her mother heard.

"Why do you weep, my girl,
My youngest, why do you moan?
Does your mother-in-law treat you badly?"

"My mother-in-law treats me as well
As my mother did at home."

The bride wept on the hill,
Moaned on the path to the well,
Lamented on the road to the spring.
Her brother heard.

"Why do you weep, my sister,
My youngest, why do you moan?
Does your husband's brother treat you badly?"

"My husband's brother treats me as well
As my brother did at home."

The bride wept on the hill,
Moaned on the path to the well,
Lamented on the road to the spring.
Her sister heard.

"Why do you weep, my sister,
My youngest, why do you moan?
Does your husband's sister treat you badly?"

"My husband's sister treats me as well
As my sister did at home."

The bride wept on the hill,
Moaned on the path to the well,
Lamented on the road to the spring.
Her uncle heard.

"Why do you weep, brother's child,
My youngest, why do you moan?
Does your husband treat you badly?"

"That one is a dog, a dog indeed,
The very worst of dogs!
I would wish such a husband
To rot a year in the tower,
To hang screaming from the gallows!
I would wish him on the rack!
If I saw him being burned,
I would stoke the fire beneath;
If I saw him being cut,
I would put his head on the block;
If I saw him being hanged,
I would pull the hanging rope.
He ate with his back turned, slept with his back turned,
With his back did everything;
He took me beside him at night,
Gave me plenty of his elbow,
A generous share of his angry hand,
His fist raked through my hair,
His hand tore at my braids."

Song 41 — The Ailing Maiden

The maiden of Viro lies dying. She asks to be buried behind her father's yard — but no, father's whip cracks at dawn. Behind her brother's boat-landing — but no, the German ships come there. Before her mother's cellar — but no, the churn rattles early. At her sister's field-edge — but no, the spindle rings. Only beside the painted church, in the rich bone-hill among the silent heavy folk, can the maiden rest.

The maiden of Viro lay ill,
She spoke in her sickness:
"When I die, I who am known,
I, the wasting rich man's daughter,
You men of good repute must know,
You prosperous men of wealth —
Take me to lie in earth,
Lay me down to rest
Behind my father's yard!
But no, do not take me there!
There the maiden cannot rest,
The girl cannot long lie in peace,
From the crack of father's whip,
From the clatter of the cattle's hooves;
Father rises early
To train the stallion."

The maiden of Viro lay ill,
She spoke in her sickness:
"When I die, I who am known,
I, the wasting rich man's daughter,
You men of good repute must know,
You prosperous men of wealth —
Take me to lie in earth,
Lay me down to rest
At my brother's boat-landing!
But no, do not take me there!
There the maiden cannot rest,
The girl cannot long lie in peace,
The German ships come there,
The tar-breasted vessels land."

The maiden of Viro lay ill,
She spoke in her sickness:
"When I die, I who am known,
I, the wasting rich man's daughter,
You men of good repute must know,
You prosperous men of wealth —
Take me to lie in earth,
Lay me down to rest
Before my mother's cellar!
But no, do not take me there!
There the maiden cannot rest,
The girl cannot long lie in peace;
Mother rises early
To rinse the milk pails,
To rattle the churn."

The maiden of Viro lay ill,
She spoke in her sickness:
"When I die, I who am known,
I, the wasting rich man's daughter,
You men of good repute must know,
You prosperous men of wealth —
Take me to lie in earth,
Lay me down to rest
At the edge of my sister's field!
But no, do not take me there!
There the maiden cannot rest,
The girl cannot long lie in peace,
From the ring of sister's spindle,
And the click of sister's loom;
Sister rises early,
Begins at the first hour
To turn her spindles,
To sound her loom."

The maiden of Viro lay ill,
She spoke in her sickness:
"When I die, I who am known,
I, the wasting rich man's daughter,
You men of good repute must know,
You prosperous men of wealth —
Take me to lie in earth,
Lay me down to rest
Beside the painted church,
By the hundred-board fence,
Beside the green pathway,
In the rich bone-hill!
There the maiden may rest,
The girl may long lie in peace;
There are many silent ones,
Many of the heavy folk,
In the rich bone-hill,
Beside the painted church."

Song 42 — Lost on the Berry Path

Marketta goes to the forest for berries. By the third day she cannot find her way home. She dies in the dark depths. Her dying words address each family member: let not my father carve another axe-handle, let not my brother wear his woolen coat, let not my mother tie her silken kerchief, let not my sister send the shuttle — now that I, their hen, have vanished.

Marketta, Matero's maiden,
Flower of the village, pride of the home,
Went to the forest for cranberries,
To other lands for bilberries.
One day she picked lingonberries,
The next day other bilberries;
By the third day
She no longer knew the way home.
The path drew her into the forest,
The trail led her deeper into the wild.

Marketta, Matero's maiden,
Sat down and wept,
Wept one day, wept another,
Wept even a third,
In the dark depths of the forest,
Under the hill in the brush.
After the third day,
After the last of the week,
She prepared herself to die,
She surrendered to vanishing,
She spoke as she was dying,
She said as she was falling:
"I went to the forest for cranberries,
To other lands for bilberries;
There I, poor hen, vanished,
There I died, a wretched bird;
Let not my father,
Let not my dear father,
Ever in this life,
In this moon's bright shining,
Carve an axe-handle,
Nor gaze at slash-burn forests,
Now that I, his hen, have vanished,
His wretched bird has died!"

"I went to the forest for cranberries,
To other lands for bilberries;
There I, poor hen, vanished,
There I died, a wretched bird;
Let not my brother,
Let not my dear brother,
Ever in this life,
In this moon's bright shining,
Draw on a woolen coat,
Nor swing the sickle in the meadow,
Now that I, his hen, have vanished,
His wretched bird has died!"

"I went to the forest for cranberries,
To other lands for bilberries;
There I, poor hen, vanished,
There I died, a wretched bird;
Let not my mother,
Let not my dear mother,
Ever in this life,
In this moon's bright shining,
Tie a silken kerchief
Twice around her neck,
Now that I, her hen, have vanished,
Her wretched bird has died!"

"I went to the forest for cranberries,
To other lands for bilberries;
There I, poor hen, vanished,
There I died, a wretched bird;
Let not my sister,
Let not my dear sister,
Ever in this life,
In this moon's bright shining,
Send the shuttle flying,
Nor weave a cloth of blue,
Now that I, her hen, have vanished,
Her wretched bird has died!"

Song 43 — The Drowned Brother

A maiden waits at the pier for her brother's boat. A stranger comes instead, and tells her: your brother sat on a stone in the sea, combing his sorrowful head. His golden comb slipped into the water. He reached for it and was lost. His dying words forbid each family member from using the sea — for as much water as there is in the sea, so much is his blood; as many fish, so much his flesh; the sticks on the shore are his ribs; the grains of sand are hair rubbed away and bone ground to dust.

A maiden wept at the end of the bridge,
At the tip of the wide pier;
She turned her eyes to the open water,
Cast her gaze farther out,
Saw a boat sailing,
A tarred vessel gliding,
Hoped her brother was coming,
Her mother's child approaching;
But her brother did not come,
Her mother's child did not sail in;
There came instead a stranger,
A foreign one, unknown.

"Did you, stranger, see my brother
On the surface of the blue sea?"

"I did see your brother, maiden,
On the surface of the blue sea —
Sitting on a stone in the sea,
Combing his sorrowful head,
Grooming his anxious hair;
A golden comb in his hand,
A silver brush in his grasp;
The comb slipped into the sea,
The brush vanished into the waves,
He reached out to take it,
Leaned over to retrieve it,
Slipped in after the comb,
Was lost in reaching for the brush.
He spoke as he was going:

'Let not my father
Ever in this life
Draw fish from the water,
Nor catch whitefish
From this great expanse,
From this wide bay!'

'Let not my mother
Ever in this life,
In this moon's bright shining,
Put water in the dough,
Nor use water for the porridge
From this wide bay,
From this broad shoal!'

'Let not my brother,
Let not my dear brother,
Ever in this life,
In this moon's bright shining,
Water the war-stallion
From the shores of this sea,
From these wretched landings!'

'Let not my sister,
Let not my dear sister,
Ever in this life,
In this moon's bright shining,
Wash her eyes from this water
On the shore behind the home,
At the pier of the home bay!'

'As much water as there is in the sea,
So much is my blood;
As many fish as the sea holds,
So much is my flesh;
What sticks lie on the shore,
Those are the poor wretch's ribs;
What grains of sand lie on the shore,
Those are hairs rubbed away,
And bones ground to dust,
And blood beaten thin.'"

Song 44 — The Weaver of Cloth

A maiden weaves golden cloth for her beloved. Someone tells her he has drowned. She weeps; the golden cloth tears. Then a voice says: do not weep — your suitor comes from there, his oars below the bank, his head above it, bringing blue silk and new shoes.

A maiden wove a cloth,
Sent the shuttle flying,
Wove a cloth of gold,
Made the silver ring,
The golden threads murmured,
The fine silver chimed.
"For whom is this cloth?"

"A golden shirt for my beloved,
Silver for my treasure.
Soon he will return from market,
Journey home from Turku's land,
Soon, after three nights,
After the last of the week."

"Already your beloved has died,
Your dear one has gone —
One ship broke in half, another split,
A third ran on a dry reef,
He himself the joy of pike,
The darling of the perch."

The maiden began to weep,
The golden cloth began to tear.

"Do not weep, young maiden —
Your suitor comes from there,
Below the bank his oars are rowing,
Above the bank his head is seen,
He brings you a blue silk,
And a pair of new closed shoes."

Song 45 — Katri's Suitors

Katri grows old at home. Her mother gives advice: wash your hair at night, brush it in the morning, rise early, stay up late. Katri obeys, and suitors come from three places. Father says Inkeri — but the evenings there are long. Mother says Estonia — but she won't row those waters. Brother says Kojo — but the old men there are blind and the children lazy. Sister says: go to the strawberry field. There the strawberries are sweet.

Katrina, the home hen,
Home flower, little bird,
Waited long, grew slowly,
Sitting in her father's dwelling,
At the far end of the bench;
She wore out three rings
On her father's keys,
She wore down the threshold timber
With her shining hems,
A second timber over her head
With her smooth silken scarves.

The mother considered:
"Katri, my beautiful girl,
Why does no one marry you,
You, flower of the marsh, hen of the land?"

Katri answered in reply,
Katri said: "Well, I don't know
Why no one marries me,
Flower of the marsh, hen of the land."

The mother considered:
"I know why they don't marry you —
Because evenings you don't wash your hair,
Mornings you don't brush it,
Because you don't go late to bed,
Nor rise early in the morning."

Katri took it to heart,
The maiden took the counsel to mind,
Began evenings to wash her hair,
Mornings to brush it;
She made a pact with the moon,
With the moon, and with the sun,
She rose early in the morning,
Sat up late in the evening:
Then from three places suitors came,
One group from Inkeri,
A second from far Estonia,
A third from the court of Kojo.

Father said to go to Inkeri,
To go to Inkeri,
To eat wheat bread,
To drink ale.
She would not go to Inkeri —
The evenings are long in Inkeri,
The evenings long and dreary,
The days longer still.

Mother said to go to far Estonia,
To go to far Estonia,
To eat Estonian bread,
To drink Estonian water.
She would not go to far Estonia,
To row the waters of Estonia,
To navigate among the islands,
To ride on the waves.

Brother said to go to Kojo's house,
To live at Kojo's,
To eat Kojo's bread,
To drink Kojo's water.
She would not go to Kojo's court —
At Kojo's the customs are dull,
The old men on the stove are blind,
The children on the floor are lazy.

Sister said to go to the strawberry field,
To go to the strawberry field,
To eat berries from the hill,
To drink river water.
She went to the strawberry clearing —
There the strawberries were sweet,
Raspberries on the hillside,
Arctic brambleberries in other lands.

Song 46 — The Boy to Be Named

Four maidens go to pick cloudberries. They stay a night in the grove. A boy is born to the youngest. They cannot decide what to name him — Kullikki (Gold-boy)? But there is no gold. Raunikki (Coin-boy)? But there are no coins. They settle on Luorikki.

Four maidens at the point of the headland,
Three more brides besides,
Went to pick cloudberries.
By day they picked,
By evening they sat on a hummock,
By night they rested in the grove;
The moon brought three daughters-in-law
To the beds of three maidens,
A boy was born to the youngest,
To the youngest, to the smallest,
To the best of the household.
They did not know what name to give.

"What name shall we give him,
What shall we call him?
Let us call him Kullikki — Gold-boy.
But father has no gold,
Nor mother any gold,
Nor anyone to carry gold."

"What name shall we give him,
What shall we call him?
Let us call him Raunikki — Coin-boy.
But father has no coins,
Nor mother any coins,
Nor anyone to carry coins."

"What name shall we give him,
What shall we surely call him?
Let us name him Luorikki —
Luorikki is a good name."

Song 47 — The Punishing Suitor

A dark song. The young women cut a linden, strip its bast, braid a rope, and hang a man at the crossroads. The king asks why. Because he lay with a maiden. The maiden was sentenced to the dragon's jaws — but the dragon refuses: "Sooner I will swallow a young man with his sword, a horse with its saddle, a king with his helmet, before I swallow a maiden. A maiden bears sons for the great war."

Let us rise to the stream, you young ones,
Summer-friends, to the spring,
Let us cut a long linden,
A linden long and smooth,
Let us strip a long bast,
A bast long and wide,
Let us braid a long rope,
A rope long and supple,
With which to hang the bridegroom,
To bind the woman's son.
"Why is the bridegroom hanged,
The woman's son bound?"

At the mouth of the road, at the head of the gate,
By the post of the long gateway,
Where the king passes by,
Where the castle's elder walks.
The king asks sternly,
The castle's elder demands:
"Why is this one bound,
The woman's son imprisoned?"

"For this he is bound,
The woman's son imprisoned:
He lay with a young maiden,
A young maiden, a bride.
The poor maiden was sentenced
To the jaws of the dragon;
The dragon heaved a sigh,
Heaved a sigh, drew a breath:
'Sooner I will swallow a young man,
A young man with his sword,
A horse with its saddle,
A priest with his church bell,
A king with his helmet,
Before I swallow a young maiden,
A young maiden, a bride:
A maiden bears sons,
A maiden produces a ship's crew of children
For that great war,
For that equal battle,
Where blood reaches above the knee,
Where heads lie like hummocks.'"

Song 48 — The Angry Suitor

The maiden heats a honeyed sauna five times. Father bathes and praises her. Mother bathes and praises her. Brother praises her. Sister praises her. The suitor accuses her of being with other men. She takes a birch-wood club and beats his hindquarters.

I heated a honeyed sauna
With honeyed firewood,
I softened a honeyed switch
On the honeyed navel-stone,
I went to carry water
From the spring beneath the castle,
With the city's copper bucket,
With a golden pail;
I told father to bathe.
Father bathed to his content,
Poured water to his fill:
"Well done, my daughter,
You prepared a sauna for your father!"

I heated a honeyed sauna
With honeyed firewood,
I softened a honeyed switch
On the honeyed navel-stone,
I went to carry water
From the spring beneath the castle,
With the city's copper bucket,
With a golden pail;
I told mother to bathe.
Mother bathed to her content,
Poured water to her fill:
"Well done, my daughter,
You prepared a sauna for your mother!"

I heated a honeyed sauna
With honeyed firewood,
I softened a honeyed switch
On the honeyed navel-stone,
I went to carry water
From the spring beneath the castle,
With the city's copper bucket,
With a golden pail;
I told brother to bathe.
Brother bathed to his content,
Poured water to his fill:
"Well done, my sister,
You prepared a sauna for your brother!"

I heated a honeyed sauna
With honeyed firewood,
I softened a honeyed switch
On the honeyed navel-stone,
I went to carry water
From the spring beneath the castle,
With the city's copper bucket,
With a golden pail;
I told sister to bathe.
Sister bathed to her content,
Poured water to her fill:
"Well done, my sister,
You prepared a sauna for your sister!"

I heated a honeyed sauna
With honeyed firewood,
I softened a honeyed switch
On the honeyed navel-stone,
I went for water from the spring,
From the spring beneath the castle,
With the city's copper bucket,
With a golden pail;
I told the suitor to bathe.
The suitor spoke and said:
"Away with you and your water, harlot!
You were not fetching water —
You were on the boys' paths,
Gazing at young men's shoes,
Wrestling in red kerchiefs."

I took a birch-wood club,
A rowan-handled rod,
With which I beat his shoulders,
Softened the hindquarters
Of that angry suitor.

Song 49 — She Who Bathed Her Suitor

The longest and wildest of the legendary songs. A wife fishes because her useless husband catches nothing. She feeds him the scraps. She locks him in the sauna and beats him. "Praised be God — freed from a bad husband!" But alone is no better. She fetches him back, feeds him — then puts him on her back, takes him to the water path, where insects devour him, and carries the corpse to the far field. Weeks later: the crows have held their feast. She claps her hands: "Freed from three evils — a leaking boat, a bolting horse, and a husband of evil ways."

Look at other fine fellows
And those blessed with fortune —
They eat the fish their sweethearts catch,
And the salmon of their beloveds,
The whitefish of their companions,
The perch of their darlings,
The vendace of their mates,
The gudgeon of their partners.

Christmas was approaching,
I too washed my house,
I too swept my floors,
I sent my sweetheart to fish,
My darling after perch;
My sweetheart caught no fish,
My darling caught no perch.

I put the net on my shoulder,
The stone sinkers on my breast,
The fish baskets on my back,
I myself went fishing.
I kicked past one island, kicked past one headland,
Kicked past a third too;
I caught fish from every island,
Trout from every headland.
One skerry yielded salmon,
Another gave perch,
A third headland gave trout.
I came ashore to cook,
On father's long yard,
On brother's woodworking ground.
I cooked from these a proper meal,
Fed and watered the guests,
Ate my own fill,
Saved the bones together
From the smallest ruffes,
From the largest perch,
I went home in the evening,
Fed those to my sweetheart.
My sweetheart eats and praises:
"Good is this food too,
The catch of a man who gets nothing,
The take of one who owns nothing!"

I heated a honeyed sauna,
Softened honeyed switches,
Bathed the guests;
I bathed myself to my fill,
I told my sweetheart to bathe;
My sweetheart went to bathe:
Whatever water he splashed,
I added more steam,
Whatever cry he gave for the door,
I shut the door tighter,
Whatever move he made toward the ground,
I lowered the steps further.
I felt pity for my fellow,
And sorrow for my sweetheart,
I grabbed him by the hair to the ground,
There I crushed him with my fingers,
I beat him with my thumbs,
I hammered his head with firewood,
And struck him with the laundry-board.
"Praised be God,
You freed me from a bad husband!
Sooner I will sleep alone at night
Than with a wicked partner."

Father nevertheless says,
Mother always considers:
"You did wrong, poor child,
When you lost your sweetheart;
Bad it was with the bad one,
But bad it is even without the bad one."

Two, three nights went by,
Five, six days and nights.
Then I learned the truth,
Sleeping alone at night:
Bad it was with the bad one —
No better on my own.
I went straight to look
For my lost sweetheart;
My sweetheart was sewing shoes,
Braiding red cords.
"For whom are those shoes?"

"For whom but you,
For you, kind one, always."

I brought my sweetheart into the house,
Set him at the head of the table,
Fed him, gave him drink till full,
Fed him till he lay on his face,
I took my sweetheart on my back,
Carried him out to the yard,
Took him to the water path.
A cricket came, ate one eye,
A cockroach came, gouged the other,
A mosquito drained him dry,
A water-bird took the rest.
I flung him by the hair on my back,
Took him to the far fields,
To the farthest pasture,
There I left my sweetheart,
And lost my dear one.
I went to look at him
After two or three nights;
Already a crow had held a school over him,
And a magpie had dug its workshop;
I went again to look
After five or six weeks;
Already the wretches had held their feast,
The black birds their memorial.

I clapped my two palms
Against both my sides:
"Praised be God!
I am free of three evils:
A leaking boat,
A bolting horse,
A husband of evil ways.
The boat I burned with fire,
The horse I fed to the wolves,
The husband I had Death take."

Song 50 — The Chooser of the Suitor

A matchmaker searches for a bride for his friend. Each maiden asks: what is his trade? A herdsman — bad shirt, can't lie beside him. A hunter — smells of spruce. A fisherman — reeks of fish. A plowman — warm side, one can lie beside him. Only the farmer is acceptable.

I searched for a maiden for my friend,
A companion for my dear one.
I found a maiden in the grove,
A fine-hemmed girl in the meadow grass.
I asked her, I questioned:
"Will you go to my friend,
As a companion to my dear one?"

The maiden answered promptly:
"What is your friend's trade?"
"My friend is a herdsman."

"I will not go to a herdsman —
Bad is the herdsman's shirt,
One cannot lie beside him,
Warm oneself beneath his arm,
Dwell beneath his armpit."

I searched for a maiden for my friend,
A companion for my dear one.
I found a maiden in the grove,
A fine-hemmed girl in the meadow grass.
I asked her, I questioned:
"Will you go to my friend,
As a companion to my dear one?"

The maiden answered promptly:
"What is your friend's trade?"
"My friend is a hunter."

"I will not go to a hunter —
A hunter smells of spruce,
One cannot lie beside him,
Warm oneself beneath his arm,
Dwell beneath his armpit."

I searched for a maiden for my friend,
A companion for my dear one.
I found a maiden in the grove,
A fine-hemmed girl in the meadow grass.
I asked her, I questioned:
"Will you go to my friend,
As a companion to my dear one?"

The maiden answered promptly:
"What is your friend's trade?"
"My friend is a fisherman."

"I will not go to a fisherman —
He reeks of fish,
One cannot lie beside him,
Warm oneself beneath his arm,
Dwell beneath his armpit."

I searched for a maiden for my friend,
A companion for my dear one.
I found a maiden in the grove,
A fine-hemmed girl in the meadow grass.
I asked her, I questioned:
"Will you go to my friend,
As a companion to my dear one?"

The maiden answered promptly:
"What is your friend's trade?"
"My friend is a plowman."

"Now I will go to a plowman:
Warm is the plowman's side,
One can lie beside him,
Warm oneself beneath his arm,
Dwell beneath his armpit."

Song 51 — The Need for Flowers

Three rivers of mead, honey, and red ale flow around her home. She feeds guests, finds her brother's lost horse with seven dogs, rides to meet Christ carrying copper flowers. She begs for them — her stern mother-in-law will punish her for coming home empty-handed.

Three rivers flow
Around my home,
On both sides of my yard.
One river ran with mead,
Another flowed with honey,
The third with red ale.
My brother came as a guest,
My sister came to visit;
I gave mead to my brother,
I gave honey to my sister,
I myself drank the red ale.
I took my brother's horse
To the far fields,
Beside the bridge-fields.
My brother's horse vanished
From behind the cow pasture,
From the edge of the blue field.
I sent the servants to search —
The servants did not find it,
The servants searched for axe-handles.
I sent the maids to search —
The maids did not find it,
The maids searched for loom-beaters.
I went myself to search
With my three dogs,
Five, six bushy-tails,
Seven smooth-necked hounds.
The dogs tramped through the marshes,
I myself along the hills;
I found my brother's horse
On the level ground of the far fields,
Beside the bridge-fields;
I leapt upon its back —
I rode rattling along the shores,
Clattering over the sandy beaches;
Sand sprinkled in my eyes,
Dirt splashed on my cheeks.
Christ came to meet me,
Copper flowers in his arms,
Golden blooms in his hands,
I began to plead for them:
"Give me your flowers, Christ!"

"For whom do you beg for flowers?"
"For my stern mother-in-law —
I dare not go home
Without those flowers,
Without those copper buds;
Stern is the mother-in-law at home,
The father-in-law sterner still,
They would give me many words,
A week's worth of anger,
For my coming home empty-handed,
For my week of delay."

Song 52 — The Maiden in the Apple Tree

A maiden picks apples in the morning. A suitor arrives with seven bridles. She drops him a fruit; he says he came not for apples but for a maiden. She declares: our maidens are not taken by force — they bring coins and portions and furs in payment. For father a lynx-fur coat, for mother a marten cap, for brother a woolen vest, for sister a blue headdress.

I rose early in the morning,
Went out at the first hour,
To pick apples,
To gather nuts,
From my mother's apple garden,
Or from my father's orchard.
I saw an apple on the branch,
A red-skinned one above my head,
I climbed the tree unlifted,
I rose up unraised;
Then Death brought a young suitor,
A young suitor, a bashful man,
He came to the apple tree,
Under the branches he found himself.
Seven bridles behind his belt,
Hobble-ropes in his hand.

"What do the seven bridles seek,
What do the hobble-ropes want?"

"I would take the apple-berry,
The red-skinned one from the branch."

I gave an apple from the branch,
Dropped a red-skinned fruit.

The suitor spoke and said,
He himself uttered and declared:
"I am not searching for an apple,
Not picking a red-skinned fruit —
I am searching for a maiden,
Picking a rosy-cheeked girl."

"Our maidens are not to be had,
Our home-hens are not to be taken
By bridle or by hobble-rope;
These maidens still,
These home-hens still,
Will bring coins in streams,
Small moneys rolling in,
Killings struck in pain,
Half-marks chasing one another."

"These maidens still,
These home-hens still —
The family will drink great portions,
The kinfolk tender goblets,
The suitor will taste the tankards,
The bridesmaid will tip the cups."

"These maidens still,
These home-hens still —
For father a lynx-fur coat
For feeding them with rye bread,
For mother a marten cap
For nursing them at the breast,
For brother a woolen vest
For carrying in the fish,
For sister a blue headdress
For growing up together."

Song 53 — The Lost Boy

Three boys go out: one for lingonberries, one for bilberries, one to follow the hare. The first two return. Father, mother, brother — none can find the third. Only the sister calls and he answers: "I cannot come — the clouds hold my head, the mists grip my hair, my eyes are counting the stars, my shins are brushing the pines." She calls to the golden moon to free him.

A boy went for lingonberries,
A second boy for bilberries,
A third after the hare's tracks,
Along the hook-kneed one's paths.
The boy came back from the lingonberries,
The second boy from the bilberries —
But the one did not return from the hare's tracks,
From the hook-kneed one's paths.

Father went to search
With ale made from barley,
With a barley crust,
With a loaf of rye.

He searched for his small boy,
His golden little apple;
He could not find his boy,
His golden little apple.

Mother went to search
With ale made from barley,
With a barley crust,
With a loaf of rye.

She searched for her small boy,
Her golden little apple;
She could not find her boy,
Her golden little apple.

Brother went to search
With ale made from barley,
With a barley crust,
With a loaf of rye.

He searched for his little friend,
His golden little apple;
He could not find his friend,
His golden little apple.

Sister went to search
With ale made from barley,
With a barley crust,
With a loaf of rye.

She searched for her little friend,
Her golden little apple.
"Where are you, poor brother?
Come home, poor brother!"

"I cannot come, poor sister:
The clouds hold my head,
The mists grip my hair,
The rainbow holds one of my legs;
Release my head, Son of the Sun,
Free my eyes, good child —
My eyes are counting the stars,
My shins are brushing the pines."

"Golden Moon, God's creation,
Come and free his head,
Feed him Karjala's fish,
Feed him gudgeon from Kuvetjarvi!"

Song 54 — He Who Went to the Wolf's Snare

A variant of Song 53. Three sons: one fishes, one hunts, one goes to the wolf's snare. Only the mother searches. She runs through the forests as a bear, travels the wilds as a wolf. From a hilltop she calls. The son answers: "Before me a dark cloud, behind me a bright heaven."

A mother had three sons,
Three children had the elder.
One boy went fishing,
A second boy went for fresh meat,
The third went to the wolf's snare.
The boy came back from fishing,
The second from the fresh meat —
He did not return from the wolf's snare.

Who missed the boy?
The mother missed her boy.

Mother went to search
For her vanished son.
She ran through the forests as a bear,
Traveled the wilds as a wolf,
After three nights,
After the last of the week,
She climbed a great hill,
A high summit,
And called from there for her son:
"Where are you, my boy?
Come home, my son!"

The boy answered from there:
"I cannot, mother —
The clouds hold my head,
The mists grip my hair,
The rainbow holds my arms,
The fork-pole holds one of my legs,
My shins are brushing the pines,
My eyes are counting the stars,
Before me a dark cloud,
Behind me a bright heaven."

Song 55 — Ailing in Estonia

A boy lies sick in Estonia. Where can he rest? Not in the house — the master makes merry. Not on the sea — the gulls cry. Only in the halls of Tuonela, on eternal beds, on lasting pillows.

The boy lay ill in Estonia,
Sick in the land of the Germans,
With nameless diseases,
With ailments unknown.

"Where can the sick one lie,
The suffering one rest an hour?
Can you lie in the house,
Can you rest on the bench?"

"I cannot lie in the house,
Nor rest on the bench,
Because of the master's merrymaking,
Because of the servant-boys' carousing."

The boy lay ill in Estonia,
Sick in the land of the Germans,
With nameless diseases,
With ailments unknown.

"Where can the sick one lie,
The suffering one rest an hour?
Can you lie on the sea,
Can you rest on the open water?"

"I might lie on still waters,
But not on the waters of Estonia —
I cannot rest there for the cry of the gulls,
For the clamor of the seabirds."

The boy lay ill in Estonia,
Sick in the land of the Germans.

"Where can the sick one lie,
The suffering one rest an hour?
Can you lie in the underworld,
Lie in the halls of Tuonela?"

"Take me to lie there,
Lay me down to rest
In those halls of Tuonela,
In the eternal dwellings of Manala;
There the sick one may lie,
The suffering one rest an hour,
On eternal beds,
On lasting pillows."

Song 56 — He Who Went Courting

A young man's father buys him a stallion and bride-price. He rides to a farmstead on a hill. A maiden stands in the lane. He asks: can you weave? can you sew? She answers: a girl is not sold in the square — that is where tobacco and mares are traded. A girl is sold in the house, under the roof. He inspects her: her eyes have been washed now and then, her cheeks never, her ears not once in a month.

Two merchants drove
One behind the other over the ice;
Each of them had a fine stallion,
A mouse-gray horse.
My father bought a stallion,
A mouse-gray horse;
He bought fine rings,
And the brightest bride-price
To court a girl for me,
To woo one for my pleasure,
And to go courting.

I set out to go courting,
I started to go wooing;
I climbed from the shore up the hill.
A house was on the hill —
I could not pass it by,
Not above, not below;
I drove into the farmyard,
Into the house's small yard.
A maiden like a flower in the lane,
Decked out in the yard:
I asked her, I questioned:
"Is there a wife in you for a man,
A bride for a young fellow?
Do you know how to weave,
Do you know how to sew?"

The maiden answered promptly:
"If I don't know how to weave,
And don't know how to sew,
Let those who know weave,
Let those more skilled sew.
My mother did not intend,
My parent did not allow,
A girl to be sold in the square,
Offered on the open ground:
In the square is the tobacco trade,
On the ground is the mare trade —
A maiden is sold in the house,
Under the roof she is bargained for."

That flower-head came into the house,
That braided one under the roof;
I looked at her —
Her eyes had been washed now and then,
Her cheeks had not been washed once,
Her ears not once in a month.

Song 57 — The Villain's Daughter

The longest courtship song in the collection. A boy asks his father to sell the calf and buy a stallion so he can go courting for "the famous daughter of the villain." He plows, but wolves eat the horses. Father consoles: I once broke my oar on the sea, rowed with my fingers to an island, and built a better boat. Buy a better horse. He does, rides to the stern mother-in-law's house, asks for the maiden. She is brought out — filthy, unwashed, black as a cockroach. He cannot take her to the altar.

Yesterday our cow calved,
Bore a white calf:
Copper-horned, golden-hooved,
Silver shone on its forehead.
My dear father,
Take that calf to Viipuri,
Drive it to the city market:
Bring back a stallion from there,
Or a small mare foal,
One with a pool on its flanks,
A spring between the shafts,
From which witches drink water,
From which enviers eat fish!
Buy double bit-bridles,
With copper spurs as well!
I myself would find a saddle
Under the hard bark of a birch.
With the stallion I would plow oats,
With the mare I would settle the homestead.
I would go courting in gold,
Riding forth in silver
For such a bride,
The famous daughter of the villain,
From the stern mother-in-law's home,
From the stern father-in-law's house.

My dear father
Took the calf to Viipuri.
He bought me a black gelding,
Traded for a small mare foal.
I drove my foal to the furrow,
The black gelding to the fresh-turned earth,
I plowed ten furrows,
I plowed probably eight.
The foal bit at twigs,
The black gelding at grass-tops.
I left my foal in the furrow,
The black gelding on the fresh-turned earth,
I myself wandered into the grove,
Into the silvery forest,
Into the coppery brush,
Into the golden birch grove,
I cut a switch from the grove,
Found an oaken twig,
From the golden birch grove,
From the silvery forest.
Death sent many wolves,
The forest brought furry-mouths,
They ate the foal from the furrow,
The black gelding from the fresh earth.

I went weeping home,
Wailing to the yard.
Father at the gate asked:
"Why do you weep, my boy?"

"This I weep for, father,
This I mourn, my elder:
I drove my foal to the furrow,
The black gelding to the fresh-turned earth,
I plowed ten furrows,
I plowed probably eight.
The foal bit at twigs,
The gelding gazed at grass-tops.
I left my foal in the furrow,
The black gelding on the fresh earth,
I wandered into the grove,
Into the golden birch grove,
Into the coppery brush,
Into the silvery forest.
I cut a switch from the grove,
Found an oaken twig,
From the golden birch grove,
From the silvery forest.
Death sent many wolves,
The forest brought furry-mouths,
They ate my foal from the furrow,
The black gelding from the fresh earth."

Then father spoke these words:
"Do not weep, my boy!
Once I too set out,
I went far to fish:
The wind overcame me, the oar broke,
The aspen boat shattered.
I made my fingers into oars,
My thumb into a rudder;
I rowed with my fingers to an island,
With my palms to a wooded skerry,
And there I carved a better boat,
Built a finer vessel.
You buy a better stallion,
A foal twice as beautiful."

I bought a new stallion,
A foal twice as beautiful.
With the stallion I plowed oats,
With the mare I settled the homestead,
I went courting in gold,
Rode forth in silver
For such a bride,
The famous daughter of the villain.

The mother-in-law, a fine lady,
Was heading to the storehouse.
I spoke to her, I questioned:
"Do you have a maiden for sale,
Or a hen to be bargained for?"

The mother-in-law, fine lady,
She answered promptly:
"Hens are sold beneath the perch,
Girls in the four-cornered room."

I went into the house,
I spoke to her, I questioned:
"Do you have a maiden for sale,
Or a hen to be bargained for?"

A tankard of ale was brought,
A tankard of ale, another of mead.

"I do not care for eating,
Nor much for drinking —
I would see my maiden —
Bring the girl into the room!"

The maiden was brought into the room
Under the wings of her sisters,
Under the veil of the brother's wife,
On the arms of the daughters-in-law.
There was no wife in her for a man,
Nor a bride for a man:
A wretched rag of a shirt on her,
Patched stockings on her feet,
Her eyes washed now and then,
Her brow-ridges once in a while,
Her mouth never once cleaned,
Her cheeks not once in a lifetime.
I could not marry that one —
She was as black as a cockroach;
I could not take her to the altar,
Could not set her before the priest.

Song 58 — He Who Got a Wife

"Give me your Anni!" "No — Anni is needed to wash tables. The king passes through." "Give me your Anni!" "No — not to wretched sled-runners and sooty campfires." "I will take her to ale-houses and wheat-cake halls." So Anni is given. One day she ate, the next she slept, by the third she was quarreling — a fierce fighter, expert at pulling hair, but no house-washer came.

"Give me your Anni,
Grant me your love-bird!"

"I will not give my Anni,
I will not grant my love-bird.
Anni cannot leave the house:
Anni is sorely needed
To wash the round tables,
To sweep the floors;
Through here passes the king,
Through here walks the castle's elder."

"Give me your Anni,
Grant me your love-bird!"

"I will not give my Anni,
I will not grant my love-bird;
I will not give her at all,
I would not hear of it, not to anyone,
To wretched sled-runners,
To dirty floorboards,
To hard slash-burn stumps,
To sooty campfires."

"I will not take your Anni
Nor want your daughter
For wretched sled-runners,
For dirty floorboards,
For hard slash-burn stumps,
For sooty campfires;
I will take her to ale-houses,
I want her for wheat-cake halls."

Then Anni was given,
The broad-bottomed one was tossed away.
One day she ate, the next she slept,
By the third she was quarreling;
There came a fierce fighter,
A very sharp brawler,
Skilled at pulling hair,
Expert at raking braids —
But no house-washer came,
No sauna-heater was found.

Song 59 — The One Who Grew Wise

The great riddle-song of the Kanteletar. A father tells his son: marry the girl from whichever house shows smoke first at dawn. The boy goes, finds a girl baking in her shift. She scolds him for coming unannounced, then describes her absent family in kennings: "Father walks back and forth in the yard" (plowing), "Mother herds last summer's kittens" (lying in childbed), "Brother gets much from little at the water's edge" (fishing). The boy doesn't understand. His father does. He brings the clever girl home. That night the father speaks in riddles: "Find me a foot, shorten the road, cut off my hands, cut off my head." The boy is baffled. His new wife solves them all: a walking stick, a story, mittens, a hat. The next day the father sees, without asking, that "a wiser one lies beside you."

Father counseled his son,
The elder his own offspring,
When each was combing his hair,
Each looking over his own:
"My boy, my youngest,
My child, my steadfast one,
When the desire comes upon you,
When your mind turns to marrying,
To bring a daughter-in-law into the house,
To seek a mistress for it —
Rise early in the morning,
At the very first hour,
Look through the villages,
Look house by house:
Whichever house has the first smoke —
From that house marry, my boy."

The boy took this to heart.
He rose at the earliest hour,
At the very first morning,
Walked through the villages,
Looked house by house;
He saw smoke from an island,
Fire at the tip of a headland.

He went, he walked,
To the famous house on the island,
Without a dog hearing him,
Without a magpie chattering.

When he arrived at the house
He considered to himself:
"Could there be a daughter here,
A wife for this young man?"

He found a maiden baking,
A girl kneading dough;
She spoke a word, said thus:
"What sort of man are you,
What sort of village-wanderer,
Come into the house unannounced,
Come to seek a girl without notice?
Never, God,
Create a home without a dog,
A barn without a cat,
A yard without a magpie,
A window without a child!"

Then the boy spoke:
"Where is your father,
Where has your mother gone,
And all the other people?"

The girl managed to say,
The maiden answered promptly:
"Father is in the farmyard
Walking back and forth;
Poor mother is herding
Last summer's kittens;
Brother is at the water's edge
Getting much from little."

The boy went home.
"I went already, father,
I walked through the villages,
I looked house by house
For the earliest smoke:
I saw smoke on an island,
Fire at the tip of a headland,
I went to that house,
And no dogs heard me,
No barkers noticed me:
I asked for a daughter of the house."

"The girl was baking —
She answered thus:
'Never, God,
Create a home without a dog,
A yard without a magpie,
A window without a child;
What sort of man are you,
What sort of village-wanderer,
Come into the house unannounced,
Come to seek a girl without notice!'"

"When I then asked the girl
Where is father, where is mother,
Where are all the others from the house?
She managed to say this,
She answered thus:"
"'Father is in the farmyard
Walking back and forth,
Poor mother is herding
Last summer's kittens,
Brother is at the water's edge
Getting much from little.'"
"So she spoke in just that way,
So the witless one babbled."

Then father spoke:
"You yourself, my boy,
Had not much sense,
Nor much mind in your head —
That is why she told you
You had come without manners,
Since no dog had barked,
No magpie had chattered,
No child had announced you first,
No cat had wiped its face;
Or if you had at least
Blown your nose outside first,
Then the girl would have had time
To put something on,
She would not have been seen baking
In her bare shift.
When she then said that
Her father was in the farmyard
Walking back and forth:
Father was plowing the field;
Her mother was herding
Last summer's kittens:
Mother was lying in
The childbed at the same time;
Her brother was at the water's edge
Getting much from little:
Brother was fishing.
I can see this without asking,
I can guess without begging —
You will get a chosen wife from there,
And a wise daughter-in-law;
Go back to that house,
Bring me a daughter-in-law from there!"

He went again, brought a daughter-in-law,
Got a capable housewife.
Then on the first evening
The newly wed man said to his wife,
Whispered to his beloved:
"What has come over my father,
What strangeness over the old man?
When we were walking together,
Returning from the fields,
He was as if out of his mind,
As if suddenly lacking sense.
My father said to me,
He spoke such unreasonable things:
'You would be a fine boy
If you would find me a foot;
You would be a fine boy
If you would make the road shorter;
You would be a fine boy
If you would cut off my hands;
You would be a fine boy
If you would cut off my head.'"

The wife understood the matter,
She asked her husband at once:
"Did you do what he asked,
What he told and urged?"

"What strange things you ask!
How could I possibly
Get a foot for father,
Make the road shorter —
Could I cut off his hands,
Or cut off his head?"

"You could have, you would have known,
If you had understood rightly.
A walking stick is a finer foot,
Through stories the road grows shorter,
Mittens extend the hands,
A hat atop the head covers it.
A word holds the weary,
Storytellers make the road,
In summer mittens are burdensome,
A hat is heavy in the warmth.
Cut a walking stick for the old man —
That will be his third leg;
Tell stories as you walk the road —
That makes the road shorter for him;
Take the mittens from the old man —
With that you cut off his hands;
Take the hat from his head —
With that you take off his head."

And the very next day,
Again walking on the road,
The boy talked at length,
Cut a stick from the grove,
Took the mittens from the old man,
Asked for the hat from his head.

All this pleased the old man.
He spoke to his child,
To his son he said:
"I can see without asking —
Already after one night's rest,
A wiser one lies beside you."

Song 60 — Skiing Death

Death skis through the marshes, considering whom to take from the farmstead. The old man? — no, the fish would vanish. The old woman? — no, sleep would leave the stove. The master? — the homestead would be ruined. The mistress? — the milk would dry up. The son? — the plows would sink. The daughter? — the mice would leave and the suitors would grieve. The daughter-in-law? — "the homestead will not be ruined. A woman vanishes as if bought for it." So Death takes the daughter-in-law. The man marries again. But the children are left weeping — he cannot find them a mother.

Death skied along the marsh,
Disease traveled the winter road.
Thus spoke great Death,
Thus old Disease considered,
Behind the farmstead's storehouses,
Under the hill in the pine grove:
"Whom shall I take from the house?
Shall I take the old man from the house?"

"If I take the old man from the house,
The fish would vanish from the sea,
There would be no one to bring them to shore,
The seines would rot in heaps,
The nets would roll away elsewhere.
I will not take the old man from the house!"

Death skied along the marsh,
Disease traveled the winter road.
Thus spoke great Death,
Thus old Disease considered,
Behind the farmstead's storehouses,
Under the hill in the pine grove:
"Whom shall I take from the house?
Shall I take the old woman from the house?"

"If I take the old woman from the house,
Sleep would vanish from the stove,
The wide bench would lose its warmth,
Scolding would leave the house,
Clattering would leave the barn.
I will not take the old woman from the house!"

Death skied along the marsh,
Disease traveled the winter road.
Thus spoke great Death,
Thus old Disease considered,
Behind the farmstead's storehouses,
Under the hill in the pine grove:
"Whom shall I take from the house?
Shall I take the master of the house?"

"If I take the master of the house,
The homestead would likely be ruined,
My little estate would quickly fail;
Where would the guests rest,
Where would the travelers lodge?
I will not take the master!"

Death skied along the marsh,
Disease traveled the winter road.
Thus spoke great Death,
Thus old Disease considered,
Behind the farmstead's storehouses,
Under the hill in the pine grove:
"Whom shall I take from the house?
Shall I take the mistress of the house?"

"If I take the mistress of the house,
The pastures would grow narrow,
The milk of the cows would diminish,
The milk-cups would dry up,
The butter-tubs would empty.
I will not take the mistress!"

Death skied along the marsh,
Disease traveled the winter road.
Thus spoke great Death,
Thus old Disease considered,
Behind the farmstead's storehouses,
Under the hill in the pine grove:
"Whom shall I take from the house?
Shall I take the son from the house?"

"If I take the son from the house,
The slash-burn axes would vanish,
The grain-bins would stand empty,
The plow would sink into the furrow,
Would collapse upon the field.
I will not take the son from the house!"

Death skied along the marsh,
Disease traveled the winter road.
Thus spoke great Death,
Thus old Disease considered,
Behind the farmstead's storehouses,
Under the hill in the pine grove:
"Whom shall I take from the house?
Shall I take the daughter from the house?"

"If I take the daughter from the house,
The mice would vanish from the pantry,
The rats from the food-stores,
The suitors would be left in sorrow,
The young men in low spirits.
I will not take the daughter from the house!"

Death skied along the marsh,
Disease traveled the winter road.
Thus spoke great Death,
Thus old Disease considered,
Behind the farmstead's storehouses,
Under the hill in the pine grove:
"Whom shall I take from the house?
Shall I take the daughter-in-law from the house?"

"If I take the daughter-in-law from the house,
The homestead will not be ruined —
A woman vanishes as if bought for it,
A stallion as if purchased for the other;
Another woman will be married,
Another mistress will be found,
To live as the mistress of the house,
Knees to hold the boy,
Hands to tend the child,
As with other mothers."

So Death took the daughter-in-law from the house,
Put away the son's wife.
The man marries a new wife,
Finds another mistress,
Gets a wife through marriage,
Through seeking finds a mistress;
But he cannot find a mother for the child,
A caretaker for the little one,
One to press the nipple to the mouth,
One to hurry the breast to the lips;
The children were left weeping,
The little ones to shed tears.

Colophon

These twenty-nine legendary songs — Songs 32 through 60 of Book III — are translated from the first edition of Elias Lönnrot's Kanteletar taikka Suomen kansan vanhoja lauluja ja virsiä (Helsinki, 1840). The Finnish source text is from Project Gutenberg eBook #7078, digitized from the 1840 first edition.

No complete English translation of the Kanteletar exists in the public domain. Keith Bosley's 1992 Kanteletar: Lyrics and Ballads (Oxford World's Classics) is the nearest English selection but remains in copyright. These translations are independently derived from the 1840 Finnish text without reference to Bosley or any other English version. The register is ballad-plain: short lines, stark images, the original's repetitions preserved. Finnish Kalevala-metre (trochaic tetrameter with alliteration) is rendered as free verse with natural speech rhythms. Lönnrot's editorial notes in Songs 32 and 59 are rendered in italics.

The songs are classified as "Tarunomaiset virret" (Legendary Songs) in Finnish scholarship — narrative folk songs of courtship, loss, death, cleverness, and village life, as distinct from the Historical Songs (Section II) and the Ancient-Belief Songs (Section I) of Book III. These are the songs that Finnish women sang while spinning, while washing, while carrying water — the songs of how people live and how they die.

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

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Source Text: Kanteletar III — Tarunomaiset virret

Finnish source text from Elias Lönnrot, Kanteletar taikka Suomen kansan vanhoja lauluja ja virsiä (Helsinki: Recks, 1840). Digitized text from Project Gutenberg eBook #7078. Presented here for reference, study, and verification alongside the English translation above.

32. Kestin lahja.

Annikkainen neito nuori
Istui Turun sillan päässä,
Kaitsi kaupungin kanoja,
Neuoi Turun neitosia.

Nousi pilvi luotehelta,
Toinen lännestä läheni.
Joka nousi luotehelta,
Se tulepi neitihaaksi;
Joka lännestä läheni,
Se tulepi kestihaaksi.

Enmä kiitä kestihahta:
Jo mun kerran kesti petti,
Houkutteli huoran poika,
Söi mun syötetyt sikani,
Joi mun joulutynnyrini,
Jätti pienen pellapaian.--
Minun pieni pellapaita
Tahtoi verkaista hametta;
Minun verkainen hameeni
Tahtoi vyötä kullatuista;
Minun vyöni kullatuinen
Tahtoi raskaita rahoja;
Minun raskahat rahani
Tahtoi nuorta kauppamiestä;
Minun nuori kauppamiehen
Tahtoi mennä muille maille,
Muille maille vierahille;
Kantoi hahtehen kalunsa.
Tuli tuuli tuolta maalta,
Puhui purjehen siahan.
Itse istui laskemahan,
Sanoi kerran mennessänsä:

Kiesuksen jätän siahan,
Hyvän Maarian majahan;
Hyv' on toiste tullakseni,
Parempi palatakseni,
Ennen tehyille teloille,
Alotuille anturoille.

"Kenenkä telat tekemät,
Kenen anturat alomat?"--

"Kiesuksen telat tekemät,
Maarian anturat alomat."

Toisella tavalla laulettiin Keston lahjassa:

Puhui purjehen siahan,
Kantoi hahteen kalansa.
Hikois hirvi juostessansa,
Joi hirvi janottuansa,
Heränteestä lähtehestä;
Sihen kuolansa valutti,
Sihen karvansa karisti,
Sihen heitti haivenensa;
Sihen kasvoi tuomo kaunis,
Karkasi kataja kaunis,
Tuomohon hyvä hetelmä,
Katajahan kaunis marja.
Joka siitä oksan otti.
Se otti ikäisen onnen;
Joka siitä lehen leikkas,
Se leikkas ikäisen lemmen.

"Kiesuksen jätän siaani, j. n. e."

Ne välisanat, jotka näin olemma itse virrestä erottaneet, nähtävästi
eivät sihen kuulu'kaan.

33. Vähätoivottu sulho.

Istui neiti niemen päässä,
Vyötä kullaista kutovi,
Hopiaista huolittavi,
Kuuli sirkan sirkottavan,
Linnun laulavan lehossa.

"Mitä sirkka sirkottelet,
Kuta laulat pieni lintu?"

"Sitä sirkka sirkottelen,
Sitä laulan pieni lintu:
Kuului huuhunta kylältä."

"Kenpä se kylällä huuhui
Toivoisinko taatokseni?
Kun tulisi taattoseni,
Kullasta tuvan kutoisin,
Kultaiseinät seisottaisin,
Kultalattiat latoisin,
Kultapatsahat panisin.
Ottaisin ison orosen,
Kultaisilla suitsosilla,
Päitsillä hopeisilla,
Veisin tuon ison orosen,
Tallihin tasalakehen,
Paksumpahan partahasen,
Suurimpahan renkahasen,
Silkkikattehen sitoisin,
Verkaloimen laitteleisin,
Kaurat kantaisin etehen,
Leivänkannan kanteleisin,
Simaleivän syötäväksi,
Olutputsin juotavaksi;
Laatisin kylyn utuisen,
Hienoisilla halkosilla,
Pienillä pilostehilla,
Suuren korvon vettä saisin,
Heraisesta hettehestä,
Sulkkuvastan hauteleisin.
Kylves taatto kylläseksi,
Valelete valkiaksi!"

Istui neiti niemen päässä,
Vyötä kullaista kutovi,
Hopiaista huolittavi,
Kuuli sirkan sirkottavan,
Linnun laulavan lehossa.

"Mitä sirkka sirkottelet,
Kuta laulat pieni lintu?"

"Sitä sirkka sirkottelen,
Sitä laulan pieni lintu:
Kuului huuhunta kylältä."

"Kenpä se kylällä huuhui
Toivoisinko veikokseni,
Kun tulisi veikkoseni,
Vaskesta tuvan tekisin,
Vaskiseinät seisottaisin,
Vaskilattiat latoisin,
Vaskipatsahat panisin.
Ottaisin veikon orosen,
Sulkkuisilla suitsosilla,
Vaskisilla päitsösillä,
Veisin veikkoni orosen,
Tallihin tasalakehen,
Paksumpahan partahasen,
Suurimpahan renkahasen,
Silkkikattehen sitoisin,
Verkaloimen laitteleisin,
Kaurat kantaisin etehen,
Leivänkannan lennättäisin,
Simaleivän syötäväksi,
Olutputsin juotavaksi;
Laatisin kylyn utuisen,
Hienoisilla halkosilla,
Pienillä pilostehilla,
Suuren korvon vettä saisin,
Heraisesta hettehestä,
Sulkkuvastan hauteleisin.
Kylves veikko kylläseksi
Valelete valkiaksi!"

Istui neiti niemen päässä,
Vyötä kullaista kutovi,
Hopiaista huolittavi,
Kuuli sirkan sirkottavan,
Linnun laulavan lehossa.

"Mitä sirkka sirkottelet,
Kuta laulat pieni lintu?"

"Sitä sirkka sirkottelen,
Sitä laulan pieni lintu
Kuului huuhunta kylältä."

"Kenpä se kylällä huuhui?
Toivoisinpa sulhokseni,
Tuvan vaivoista vatoisin,
Lahoseinät seisottaisin,
Olkilattiat latoisin,
Pajupatsahat panisin;
Ottaisin sulhon orosen,
Nahkaisilla suitsosilla,
Vitsaisilla päitsösillä,
Sillan korvahan sitoisin,
Selkähän likaisen loimen,
Rokosinan katteheksi,
Lian saven syötäväksi,
Tervaputsin juotavaksi;
Tervaskylyn lämmittäisin
Tervaisilla halkosilla,
Pienen korvon vettä toisin,
Likavastan hauteleisin:
Kylves sulho kylläseksi,
Valelete valkiaksi!
Itse poies ennättäisin,
Uksen umpehen jälessä,
Toissa päänä katsomahan,
Koivuinen korento käässä."

34. Katri neito.

Katri kaunis, neito nuori,
Nousi aivan aikasehen,
Teki viisi villavyötä,
Kaheksan kapalovyötä,
Ennen päivän nousemista,
Auringon ylenemistä.
Meni kuuta katsomahan,
Ilmoa ihoamahan,
Kuuli Kuuttaren kutovan
Päivättären ketreävän;
Sitte luoksi luottelihen,
Likelle lähentelihen,
Kävi kuun keheä myöten,
Päivän päärmettä vaelsi:
"Anna Kuutar kultiasi,
Päivätär hopehiasi!"

Antoi Kuutar kultiansa,
Päivätär hopehiansa,
Katsoi kullat kulmillensa,
Päällensä hyvät hopiat,
Kultana kumottamahan,
Hopiana hohtamahan.
Läksi suolle sotkuillensa,
Lätäkölle lätkyillensä;
Oli suo olutta täynnä,
Lätäkkö läpensä mettä.
Joip' on kannun, joip' on kaksi,
Kohta kolmannen sipasi,
Nukkui nurmelle hyvälle,
Kaatui maalle kaltisalle.
Risukosta rietta katsoi,
Konnan poika koivikosta,
Otti kullat kulmiltansa,
Päähänsä hyvät hopiat;
Katri itkien kotihin,
Kallotellen kartanolle.
Emo aitan portahalta:
"Elä itke piikaseni,
Ota aittojen avaimet,
Aukase isosi arkku,
Lukko luinen luikahuta,
Pane paita palttinainen,
Veä verkainen hamehut,
Vyöhyt kullan kirjaeltu!
Siitä kasvat kaunihiksi,
Ylenet ylen ehoksi,
Asut kukkana kujoilla,
Marjana isosi mailla."

35. Saaren neito.

Tuo soria Saaren neito,
Saaren neito, Saaren kukka,
Läksi piennä paimenehen,
Lassa lammasten ajohon,
Ison polven korkunaissa,
Emon värttinän pituissa.
Pani kullat kulmillensa,
Sinilangat silmiltensä,
Päähänsä hopialangat,
Vaskilangat varrellensa,
Istui maahan mättähälle,
Vaipui varvikkosalolle.

Varas katsoi varvikosta,
Mies vihainen virviköstä;
Tuli varas varvikosta,
Mies vihainen virviköstä.
Otti kullat kulmiltansa,
Sinilangat silmiltänsä,
Päästänsä hopialangat,
Vaskilangat varreltansa.

Neiti parka itkemähän,
Vaivainen valittamahan,
Meni itkien kotihin,
Kallotellen kartanolle.
Iso katsoi ikkunasta,
Emo aitan rappusilta:
"Mitä itket piikueni,
Nuori neitonen nurajat?"

"Sitä itken maammoseni,
Sitä taattoni nurajan,
Tuli varas varvikosta,
Mies vihainen virviköstä,
Otti kullat kulmiltani,
Sinilangat silmiltäni,
Päästäni hopialangat,
Vaskilangat varreltani."

"Elä itke piikueni!
Mene aittahan mäellä,
Siell' on kirstu kirstun päällä,
Arkku arkulle yletty,
Aukase parahin arkku,
Kimmahuta kirjakansi,
Ota kuusi kulta vyötä,
Seitsemän sinihamoista,
Sio silkit silmillesi,
Katso kullat kulmillesi,
Pane päällesi parasta,
Kaunehinta kaulallesi,
Ripeintä rinnoillesi,
Valkeinta varrellesi;
Tulet aitasta tupahan,
Sukukuntasi suloksi,
Heimokunnan hempiäksi,
Menet kirkkohon kukaksi;
Nuo sulhot sua kysyvät:
"Kenen kukka, kenen neito,
Kenen morsian mokoma?"

"Saaren kukka, Saaren neito,
Saaren morsian mokoma."

"Voi, jos mie mokoman saisin,
Mie tuota hyvin pitäisin,
Sylissäni syötteleisin,
Käsissäni käytteleisin!
Voi, jos mie mokoman saisin,
Kun se kävi, kanta välkkyi,
Kun se seisoi, seinät paistoi,
Kun se istui, maa ilotsi!"

36. Meren kylpijä.

Anni tyttö, aino neiti
Läksi rannalle pesohon,
Kävi merehen kylpemähän,
Jo oli meri kylvettynä;
Meni toiselle merelle,
Seki oli vielä kylvettynä;
Meni kohta kolmannelle,
Siit' oli puoli kylvettynä,
Toinen puoli kylpemättä.

Anni tyttö, aino neiti
Puki päältä vaattehensa,
Heitti paitansa pajuille,
Hamehensa haarukalle,
Sukkansa sulille maille,
Kenkänsä vesikivelle,
Vyönsä vyöteli vesoille,
Pintelinsä pientarelle,
Helmet hiekkarantaselle,
Sormikkaat somerikolle.

Tuli hauki hangotellen,
Lohen poika longotellen,
Se otti pajuilta paian,
Haarukkaiselta hamosen,
Sukkaset sulilta mailta,
Kenkäset vesikiveltä,
Otti vyöhyen vesoilta,
Pintelisen pientarelta
Helmet hiekka-rantaselta,
Sormikkaat somerikolta.

Anni itkien kotihin,
Kaikotellen kartanolle.
Päätyi emo kuulemahan.
"Elä itke piikaseni!
Ota aittani avaimet,
Mene aittahan mäelle,
Siell' on kirstu kirstun päällä,
Arkku arkulle yletty,
Pue päällesi parasta,
Valkeinta varrellesi,
Paita saksan palttinainen,
Hame verkainen vetäse,
Sukat sulkkuiset koriat,
Kautokengät kaunokaiset,
Vyöhyt kullan kirjoteltu,
Punalanka pintelinen,
Helevimmät helme'nauhat,
Soreimmat sormikkaiset;
Kulet kukkana kujilla,
Vaapukkaisena vaellat,
Ehompana entistäsi,
Parempana muinaistasi!"

37. Helka paimenessa.

Kalevalan kaunis neiti,
Helka neiti hempiätär,
Läksi piennä paimenehen,
Lassa karjan kaitsentahan;
Ajoi lehmänsä leholle,
Vasikkansa varvikolle;
Toi surma susia paljo,
Lempo karhuja lähetti,
Söivät lehmänsä leholta,
Vasikkaiset varvikolta.

Kalevalan kaunis neiti,
Helka neiti hempiätär,
Läksi itkien kotihin,
Kallotellen kartanolle;
Iso kysyi ikkunasta,
Emo aittansa rapuilta:
"Mitä itket piikaseni,
Nuorempaiseni nurajat?"

"Sitä itken äitiseni
Olin lehmien ajossa,
Ajoin lehmäni leholle,
Vasikkani varvikolle;
Toi surma susia paljo,
Lempo karhuja kuletti,
Söivät lehmän leholta,
Vasikkani varvikolta."

Tuon emo sanoiksi virkki:
"Elä itke piikaseni,
Jos surma susia työnti,
Lempo karhuja kuletti,
Söivät lehmäsi leholta,
Vasikkasi varvikolta!
Äsken itke piikaseni,
Kun tulevi toisen kerran
Suet suurille pihoille,
Karhut näille kartanoille,
Syövät suuren sukuni,
Ottavat oman vereni,
Suet sulhoina tulevat,
Karhut kihlan kantajoina."

38. Meren kosijat.

Neitonen turulla istui,
Turun kosken korvasella,
Kirjavaisella kivellä,
Kaunihilla kalliolla.
Kesän istui, toisen itki,
Vuotti miestä mielehistä,
Sulhoa sulosanaista,
Miestä mielen myötähistä.

Rautamies merestä nousi,
Rauta suuna, rauta päänä,
Rauta kukkaro käessä,
Rauta kihlat kukkarossa.
"Tules mulle neiti raukka
Rautamiehen puolisoksi!"

"Enp' on tule, enkä huoli,
Ei oo suotu, eikä luotu,
Eikä koissa kasvatettu,
Rautamiehen puolisoksi."
Sep' on mies meni merehen.

Neitonen turulla istui,
Turun kosken korvasella,
Kirjavaisella kivellä,
Kaunihilla kalliolla.
Kesän istui, toisen itki,
Vuotti miestä mielehistä,
Sulhoa sulosanaista,
Miestä mielen myötähistä.

Tinamies merestä nousi,
Tina suuna, tina päänä,
Tina kukkaro käessä,
Tina kihlat kukkarossa.
"Tules mulle neiti raukka
Tinamiehen puolisoksi!"

"Enp' on tule, enkä huoli,
Ei oo suotu, eikä luotu,
Eikä koissa kasvateltu,
Tinamiehen puolisoksi."
Sep' on mies meni merehen,

Neitonen turulla istui,
Turun kosken korvasella,
Kirjavaisella kivellä,
Kaunihilla kalliolla.
Kesän istui, toisen itki,
Vuotti miestä mielehistä,
Sulhoa sulosanaista,
Miestä mielen myötähistä.

Vaskimies merestä nousi,
Vaski suuna, vaski päänä,
Vaski kukkaro käessä,
Vaski kihlat kukkarossa.
"Tules mulle neiti raukka
Vaskimiehen puolisoksi!"

"Enp' on tule, enkä huoli,
Ei oo suotu, eikä luotu,
Eikä koissa kasvateltu
Vaskimiehen puolisoksi."
Sep' on mies meni merehen.

Neitonen turulla istui,
Turun kosken korvasella,
Kirjavaisella kivellä,
Kaunihilla kalliolla.
Kesän istui, toisen itki,
Vuotti miestä mielehistä,
Sulhoa sulosanaista,
Miestä mielen myötähistä.

Kultamies merestä nousi,
Kulta suuna, kulta päänä,
Kulta kukkaro käessä,
Kulta kihlat kukkarossa.
"Tules mulle neiti raukka
Kultamiehen puolisoksi!"

"Enp' on tule, enkä huoli,
Ei oo suotu, eikä luotu,
Eikä koissa kasvateltu
Kultamiehen puolisoksi!"
Sep' on mies meni merehen.

Neitonen turulla istui,
Turun kosken korvasella,
Kirjavaisella kivellä,
Kaunihilla kalliolla.
Kesän istui, toisen itki,
Vuotti miestä mielehistä,
Sulhoa sulosanaista,
Miestä mielen myötähistä.

Leipämies merestä nousi,
Leipä suuna, leipä päänä,
Leipä kukkaro käessä,
Leipä kihlat kukkarossa.
"Tules mulle neiti raukka
Leipämiehen puolisoksi!"

"Tulenpa minä sinulle,
Sek' on suotu, jotta luotu,
Jotta koissa kasvateltu,
Leipämiehen puolisoksi."

39. Aholla itkijä.

Immikkö aholla itki,
Heinätiellä hellehteli,
Kirjavaisella kivellä,
Paistavalla paaterella.

Kyselimmä, lauselimma:
"Mitä itket impi rukka,
Impi rukka, neito nuori,
Ken sua pahoin pitävi,
Taattoko pahoin pitävi?"
"Taattoni hyvin pitävi."

Immikkö aholla itki,
Heinätiellä hellehteli,
Kirjavaisella kivellä,
Paistavalla paaterella.

Kyselimmä, lauselimma:
"Mitä itket impi rukka,
Impi rukka, neito nuori,
Ken sua pahoin pitävi,
Maammoko pahoin pitävi?"
"Maammoni hyvin pitävi."

Immikkö aholla itki,
Heinätiellä hellehteli,
Kirjavaisella kivellä,
Paistavalla paaterella.

Kyselimmä, lauselimma:
"Mitä itket impi rukka,
Impi rukka, neito nuori,
Ken sua pahoin pitävi,
Velikö pahoin pitävi?"
"Veljeni hyvin pitävi."

Immikkö aholla itki,
Heinätiellä hellehteli,
Kirjavaisella kivellä,
Paistavalla paaterella.

Kyselimmä, lauselimma:
"Mitä itket impi rukka,
Impi rukka, neito nuori,
Ken sua pahoin pitävi,
Siskoko pahoin pitävi?"
"Siskoni hyvin pitävi."

Immikkö aholla itki,
Heinätiellä hellehteli,
Kirjavaisella kivellä,
Paistavalla paaterella.

Kyselimmä, lauselimma:
"Mitä itket impi rukka
Impi rukka, neito nuori,
Ken sua pahoin pitävi,
Sulhoko pahoin pitävi?"

"Sulhoni hyvin pitävi,
Eilen kihloi, eilen kuoli,
Eilen kaiketi katosi,
Äsken luotu maa majana,
Musta multa kattehena."

40. Pahasulhollinen.

Morsian mäellä itki,
Vesitiellä vieretteli,
Kaivotiellä kaikerteli.
Päätyi iso kulemahan.

"Mitä itket piikaseni,
Nuorempaiseni nurajat,
Appikko pahoin pitävi."

"Niin appi hyvin pitävi
Kun ennen iso kotona."

Morsian mäellä itki,
Vesitiellä vieretteli,
Kaivotiellä kaikerteli.
Päätyi emo kuulemahan.

"Mitä itket piikaseni,
Nuorempaiseni nurajat,
Anoppiko pahoin pitävi?"

"Niin anoppi hyvin pitävi
Kun ennen emo kotona."

Morsian mäellä itki,
Vesitiellä vieretteli,
Kaivotiellä kaikerteli.
Päätyi veikko kuulemahan.

"Mitä itket siskoseni,
Nuorempaiseni nurajat,
Kytykö pahoin pitävi?"

"Niin kyty hyvin pitävi
Kun ennen veli kotona."

Morsian mäellä itki,
Vesitiellä vieretteli,
Kaivotiellä kaikerteli.
Päätyi sisko kuulemahan.

"Mitä itket siskoseni,
Nuorempaiseni nurajat,
Natoko pahoin pitävi?"

"Niin nato hyvin pitävi
Kun ennen sisar kotona."

Morsian mäellä itki,
Vesitiellä vieretteli,
Kaivotiellä kaikerteli.
Päätyi setä kuulemahan.

"Mitä itket veljen tyttö,
Nuorempaiseni nurajat,
Sulhoko pahoin pitävi?"

"Se se koira, koira onki,
Sepä vasta koiran koira!
Soisin mie mokoman sulhon,
Vuoen tornissa toruvan,
Hirsipuussa hirnakoivan!
Soisin orressa olevan!
Kun näkisin poltettavan,
Tulta alla kiirettäisin;
Kun näkisin leikattavan,
Päätä pölkylle panisin;
Kun näkisin hirtettävän,
Hirsinuorasta vetäisin.
Selin söi, selin makasi,
Selin kaikki työt tekevi;
Otti yöksi vierehensä,
Antoi kyllä kyynysvartta,
Kättä viljalta vihaista,
Kopra hapsia harasi,
Käsi tuiski tukkiani."

41. Sairastaja neiti.

Viron neiti sairasteli,
Sanoi sairastellessansa:
"Kun ma kuolen kuulu piika,
Riutunen tytär rikaspa,
Työ tiettää hyväin miesten,
Rahan alku aitallisten;
Viekeä minua maata,
Tupatkate tuutumahan,
Taaton tanhuan ta'aksi!
Vaan elkäte viekö'känä!
Eipä saane neito maata,
Piika pitkähän levätä,
Ison ruoskan roiskehelta,
Kapinalta karjan kynnen;
Iso nousevi varahin
Oritta opettamahan."

Viron neiti sairasteli,
Sanoi sairastellessansa:
"Kun ma kuolen kuulu piika,
Rintunen tytär rikaspa,
Työ tiettää hyväin miesten,
Rahan alku aitallisten;
Viekeä minua maata,
Tupatkate tuutumahan,
Veikon venovalkamehen!
Vaan elkäte viekökänä!
Siell' ei saane neito maata,
Piika pitkähän levätä,
Sinne saapi Saksan laivat,
Tervarinnat teutoavat."

Viron neiti sairasteli,
Sanoi sairastellessansa:
"Kun ma kuolen kuulu piika,
Riutunen tytär rikaspa,
Työ tiettää hyväin miesten,
Rahan alku aitallisten;
Viekeä minua maata,
Tupatkate tuutumahan,
Emon kellarin etehen!
Vaan elkäte viekökänä!
Siin' ei saane neito maata,
Piika pitkähän levätä;
Emo nousevi varahin
Hulikoita huuhtomahan,
Kirnua kolistamahan."

Viron neiti sairasteli,
Sanoi sairastellessansa:
"Kun ma kuolen kuulu piika,
Rintunen tytär rikaspa,
Työ tiettää hyväin miesten,
Rahan alku aitallisten;
Viekeä minua maata,
Tupatkate tuutumahan,
Siskon pellon pientarelle!
Vaan elkäte viekökänä!
Siell' ei saane neito maata,
Piika pitkähän levätä,
Siskon värttinän helyltä,
Sekä pirran piukkehelta;
Sisko nousevi varahin,
Alottavi aikasehen
Värttinöitä väännätellä,
Piukahella pirtojansa."

Viron neiti sairasteli,
Sanoi sairastellessansa:
"Kun ma kuolen kuulu piika,
Rintunen tytär rikaspa,
Työ tiettää hyväin miesten,
Rahan alku aitallisten;
Viekeä minua maata,
Tupatkate tuutumahan,
Kirkon kirjatun sivuun,
Satalauan laitehesen,
Vierehen vihannan viian,
Lihavahan luumäkehen!
Siellä saapi neito maata,
Piika pitkähän levätä;
Siell' on äiä äänetöntä,
Paljo paksua väkeä,
Lihavassa luumäessä,
Kirkon kirjatun sivussa."

42. Marjatiellä kaonnut.

Marketta Materon neiti,
Kylän kukka, koin koria,
Läksi puolahan metsälle,
Muulle maalle mustikalle.
Päivän poimi puolukoita,
Toisen muita mustikoita;
Jo päivällä kolmannella,
Ei tienyt kotihin tietä.
Tiehyt metsähän vetäpi,
Ura saattavi salohon.

Marketta Materon neiti
Sekä istui, jotta itki,
Itki päivän, itki toisen,
Itki kohta kolmannenki,
Metsän synkässä salossa,
Alla vaaran varvikossa.
Päivän kolmannen perästä,
Viikon päästä viimeistäki,
Kohetitihen kuolemahan,
Heittihen katoamahan,
Sanoi kerran kuollessansa,
Sekä virkki viertessänsä:
"Läksin puolahan metsälle,
Muulle maalle mustikalle;
Sinne mä kana katosin,
Sinne kuolin kurja lintu;
Elköhön minun isoni,
Elköhön iso kuluni,
Sinä ilmoissa ikänä,
Kuuna kullan valkiana,
Kirvesvartta kirjotelko,
Kaskimetsiä katselko,
Miun kanan kaottuani,
Linnun kurjan kuoltuani!"

"Läksin puolahan metsälle,
Muulle maalle mustikalle,
Sinne mie kana katosin,
Sinne kuolin kurja lintu;
Elköhön minun veljeni,
Elköhön veli kuluni,
Sinä ilmoissa ikänä,
Kuuna kullan valkiana,
Verkaviittoa vetäkö,
Kussakkoihin kuuteleiko,
Miun kanan kaottuani,
Linnun kurjan kuoltuani!"

"Läksin puolahan metsälle,
Muulle maalle mustikalle,
Sinne mie kana katosin,
Sinne kuolin kurja lintu;
Elköhön minun emoni,
Elköhön emo kuluni,
Sinä ilmoissa ikänä,
Kuuna kullan valkiana,
Silkkihuivia sitoko,
Kaksin kerroin kaulahansa,
Miun kanan kaottuani,
Linnun kurjan kuoltuani!"

"Läksin puolahan metsälle,
Muulle maalle mustikalle;
Sinne mie kana katosin,
Sinne kuolin kurja lintu;
Elköhön minun siskoni,
Elköhön sisar kuluni,
Sinä ilmoissa ikänä,
Kuuna kullan valkiana,
Sukkulaista suikutelko
Sinikangasta kutoko,
Miun kanan kaottuani,
Linnun kurjan kuoltuani!"

43. Hukkunut veli.

Impi itki sillan päässä,
Laajan laiturin nenässä;
Käänti silmänsä selälle,
Loi silmänsä loitommaksi,
Näki purren purjehtivan,
Tervalaian laiehtivan,
Toivoi veikkonsa tulevan,
Emon lapsen laiehtivan;
Ei tuo veikko tullutkana,
Emon lapsi laiehtinna;
Tuli ennen tuntematon,
Vieras outo oppimaton.

"Näitkö vieras veikkoani
Selällä meren sinisen?"

"Näinpä neiti veikkosesi
Selällä meren sinisen
Istuvan meren kivellä,
Sukivan suruista päätä,
Huolellista harjoavan;
Suka kultainen pivossa,
Hopiainen harja käessä;
Sulkahti suka merehen,
Haihtui harja lainehesen,
Ojentihen ottamahan,
Kallistihen katsomahan,
Sulkahti suan jälessä,
Haihtui harjan ottamissa.
Sanoi kerran mennessänsä:

"Elköhön minun isoni
Sinä ilmoissa ikänä
Vetäkö veen kaloja,
Tahi saako siikasia,
Tältä suurelta selältä,
Tahi laajalta lahelta!"

"Elköhön minun emoni
Sinä ilmoissa ikänä,
Kuuna kullan valkiana,
Panko vettä taikinahan,
Vettä vellihin kokeo
Tältä laajalta lahelta,
Leviältä lietteheltä!"

"Elköhön minun veikkoni,
Elköhön veli kuluni
Sinä ilmoissa ikänä,
Kuuna kullan valkiana,
Juottako sotaoritta
Rannalta tämän merosen,
Vaivaisilta valkamoilta!"

"Elköhön minun siskoni,
Elköhön sisar kuluni,
Sinä ilmoissa ikänä,
Kuuna kullan valkiana
Peskö tästä silmiänsä
Rannalla kotiperällä,
Kotilahen laiturilla!"

"Mikäli meressä vettä,
Sikäli minun vereni;
Mikäli meren kaloja,
Sikäli minun lihani;
Mikä rannalla risuja,
Ne on kurjan kylkiluita;
Mikä rannan hiekkasia,
Ne hivusta hierottua,
Sekä luuta seuhottua,
Veri tyystä vellottua."

44. Kankahan kutoja.

Neiti kangasta kutovi,
Sukkulaista suikahutti,
Kultakangasta kutovi,
Hopiaista helkytteli,
Kultarihmaset kulisi,
Helisi hyvät hopiat.
"Kellen tuota kankahaista?"

"Kullalleni kultapaian,
Hopialleni hopian.
Kohta kaupoiltaan tulevi,
Turun maalta matkoavi,
Kohta kolmen yön perästä,
Viikon päästä viimeistäki."

"Jop' on kuoli kultasesi,
Meni mielitiettysesi,
Laiva poikki, toinen halki,
Kolmas kuivalle karille,
Itse haukien iloksi,
Ahvenien armahaksi."

Neiti tuosta itkemähän,
Kultakangas katkemahan.

"Elä itke neiti nuori,
Tuolta sulhosi tulovi,
Alta rannan airot souti,
Päältä rannan pää näkyvi,
Tuo sulle sinisen silkin,
Sekä uuet ummiskengät."

45. Katrin kosijat.

Katrina kotikananen,
Kotikukka, linnukkinen,
Viikon viipyi, kauan kasvoi,
Istuen ison majoilla,
Peripenkin notkumilla;
Kolmet renkaat kulutti
Isänsä avaimilla,
Hirren kynnystä kulutti
Heliöillä helmoillansa,
Toisen hirren päänsä päältä
Siliöillä silkeillänsä.

Äiti tuota arvelevi:
"Katri kaunis neitoiseni,
Miksi ei sinuista naia,
Suon kukaista, maan kanaista?"

Katri tuohon vastoavi,
Sanoi Katri: "Ka en tieä,
Miksi ei minua naia,
Suon kukaista, maan kanaista."

Äiti tuohon arvelevi:
"Miepä tieän, miks' ei naia,
Miks' ei illat päätä pesty,
Aamut päätä harjaeltu,
Miks' ei myöhän maata menty,
Nostu aamulla varahin."

Katri päähänsä panevi,
Neiti neuot mielehensä,
Alkoi illat päätä pestä,
Aamut päätä harjaella;
Teki liitot kuun keralla,
Kuun keralla, päivän kanssa,
Nousi aamun aikasehen,
Istui illan myöhäsehen:
Tuli kolmelta kosijat,
Yhet tuolta Inkereltä,
Toiset sai Perä-virosta,
Kolmannet Kojon hovilta.

Iso käski Inkerelle,
Inkerellä käyäksensä,
Vehnäleivän syöäksensä,
Olutjuoman juoaksensa.
Eip' on mennyt Inkerelle,
Illat pitkät Inkerellä,
Illat pitkät ja ikävät,
Päivät vieläki pitemmät.

Emo käski Perä-virolle,
Perä-virolla käyäksensä,
Viron leivän syöäksensä,
Viron vettä juoaksensa.
Ei mennyt Perä-virolle,
Viron vettä soutamahan,
Saarellista sauomahan,
Aalloista ajelemahan.

Veikko käski Kojon kotihin,
Kojolassa käyäksensä.
Kojon leivän syöäksensä,
Kojon vettä juoaksensa.
Ei mennyt Kojon hoviin,
Kojolass' on konsti tuhma,
Ukot uunilla sokiat,
Lapset laiskat lattialla.

Sisko käski mansikkahan,
Mansikassa käyäksensä,
Marjat määltä syöäksensä,
Jokivettä juoaksensa.
Meni mansikka'aholle,
Siin' oli mansikat makiat,
Vatut vaaran rintehellä,
Mesimarjat muilla mailla.

46. Nimitettävä poika.

Neljä on neittä niemen päässä,
Kolme mointa morsianta,
Läksit hillan poimintahan.
Noita päivä poimittihin,
Ilta keolla istuttihin,
Yö levättihin lehossa;
Kuu kantoi kälyjä kolme,
Kolmen neion vuotehelle,
Syntyi poika nuorimmalle,
Nuorimmalle, pienimmälle,
Perehen parahimmalle.
Ei tietä nimeä panna.

"Miksipä nimen panemma,
Kuksipa kuvaelemma?
Kuvatkame Kullikiksi.
Ei oo kultia isolla,
Eikä kultia emolla,
Eikä kullan kantajoa."

"Miksipä nimen panemma,
Kuksipa kuvaelemma?
Ravatkamma Raunikiksi.
Eipä oo rahaa isolla,
Eikä oo rahaa emolla,
Ei rahojen kantajoa."

"Miksipä nimen panemma,
Kuksi kuitenki kuvaamma?
Luokammapa Luorikiksi,
Luorikki hyvä niminen."

47. Rangastava sulho.

Nouskame norolle nuoret,
Kesäkempit kaltiolle,
Leikatkame lehmus pitkä,
Lehmus pitkä ja siliä,
Kiskokame niini pitkä,
Niini pitkä ja leviä,
Punokame nuora pitkä,
Nuora pitkä ja noria,
Jolla ylkä hirtetähän,
Vaimon poika vangitahan.
"Mihen ylkä hirtetähän,
Vaimon poika vangitahan?"

Tien suuhun, veräjän päähän,
Pitkän portin pieleksehen,
Kussa kulkevi kuningas,
Vaeltavi linnan vanhin.
Kuningas kovin kysyvi,
Linnan vanhin vaikuttavi:
"Mintähen tämä siottu,
Vaimon poika vangittuna?"

"Sentähenp' on se siottu,
Vaimon poika vangittuna,
Kun makasi nuoren neion,
Nuoren neion, morsiamen.
Neito rukka tuomittihin
Lohikäärmehen kitahan;
Lohikäärme huokasihen,
Huokasihen, henkäsihen:
Ennen nielen nuoren miehen,
Nuoren miehen miekkoinehen,
Heposen satuloinehen,
Papin kirkkokuntinehen,
Kuninkaan kypärinehen,
Ennen kun nielen nuoren neien,
Nuoren neien, morsiamen:
Neito poikia tekevi,
Laivan lapsia latovi,
Tuohon suurehen sotahan,
Tasapäähän tappeluhun,
Joss' on verta päälle polven,
Joss' on päätä, kun mätästä."

48. Äkäinen sulho.

Lämmitin metoisen saunan
Metoisilla halkosilla,
Hautelin metoisen vastan
Metisen kiven navalla,
Läksin vettä kantamahan
Alta linnan lähtehestä,
Kaupungin kasarisella,
Kuparilla kultaisella;
Käskin taaton kylpemähän.
Taatto kylpi kyllältehen,
Valoi vettä vallaltehen:
"Hyvin teit tyttäreni
Kun kylyn isolle laitit!"

Lämmitin metoisen saunan
Metoisilla halkosilla,
Hautelin metoisen vastan
Metisellä kiven navalla,
Läksin vettä kantamahan
Alta linnan lähtehestä,
Kaupungin kasarisella,
Kuparilla kultaisella;
Käskin maammon kylpemähän.
Maammo kylpi kyllältehen,
Valoi vettä vallaltehen:
"Hyvin teit tyttäreni
Kun kylyn emolle laitit!"

Lämmitin metoisen saunan
Metoisilla halkosilla,
Hautelin metoisen vastan
Metisen kiven navalla,
Läksin vettä kantamahan
Alta linnan lähtehestä,
Kaupungin kasarisella,
Kuparilla kultaisella;
Käskin veikon kylpemähän.
Veikko kylpi kyllältehen,
Valoi vettä vallaltehen:
"Hyvin teit sikkoseni,
Laitit kylyn veikollesi!"

Lämmitin metoisen saunan
Metoisilla halkosilla,
Hautelin metoisen vastan
Metisen kiven navalla,
Läksin vettä kantamahan
Alta linnan lähtehestä,
Kaupungin kasarisella,
Kuparilla kultaisella;
Käskin siskon kylpemähän.
Sisko kylpi kyllältehen,
Valoi vettä vallaltehen:
"Hyvin teit siskoseni,
Laitit kylyn siskollesi!"

Lämmitin metoisen saunan
Metoisilla halkosilla,
Hautelin metoisen vastan
Metisen kiven navalla,
Läksin vettä lähteheltä,
Alta linnan lähteheltä,
Kaupungin kasarisella,
Kuparilla kultaisella;
Käskin sulhon kylpemähän.
Sulho saattavi sanoa:
"Pois portto vetesi kanssa;
Etpä veillä ollutkana,
Olit poikien poluilla,
Katsannassa kengän kauon,
Punapaklan paininnassa."

Otin koivuisen korennan
Pihlajaisen piakan varren,
Jolla hauvoin hartioita,
Pehmitin perälihoja
Äkäiseltä sulhaselta.

49. Sulhonsa kylvettäjä.

Katsos muita miekkoisia
Ja onnen osallisia,
Syövät kaunonsa kaloja,
Sekä luotunsa lohia,
Siikoja sivullisensa,
Armahansa ahvenia.
Mujeita mukahisensa,
Kumppalinsa kuorrehia.

Olipa joulu joutumassa,
Pesinpä mieki tupani,
Lakaelin lattiani,
Laitoin kaunoni kalahan,
Armahani ahvenehen;
Ei kauno kaloja saanut,
Armahani ahvenia.

Otin verkkoni olalle,
Kiviriipat rinnoilleni,
Kalakontit kannoilleni,
Läksin mie itse kalahan.
Potkin saaren, potkin niemen,
Potkin kohta kolmannenki;
Sain kaloja kaikki saaret,
Joka niemen nieriäitä.
Yksi luoto loi lohia,
Toinen antoi ahvenia,
Kolmas niemi nieriäitä.
Nousin maalle keittämähän,
Ison pitkille pihoille,
Veikon vestoslastusille.
Keitin noista kunnon ruoan,
Syötin, juotin vierahia,
Söin itse kyllältäni,
Säästin ruotoset kokohon,
Pienimmistä kiiskilöistä,
Suurimmista ahvenista,
Menin illalla kotihin,
Syötin noita kaunolleni.
Kauno syöp' ja kiittelevi:
"Hyväpä tämäki ruoka,
Syöä miehen saamattoman,
Ottoa olemattoman!"

Lämmitin metoisen saunan,
Hautelin metoiset vastat,
Kylvettelin vierahia;
Kylvin itse kyllältäni,
Käskin kaunon kylpemähän;
Kävi kauno kylpemähän:
Minkä kauno vettä puisti,
Sen mä löylyä lisäsin,
Minkä kauno usta huusi,
Sen mä usta ummemmaksi,
Minkä kauno maahan pyrki,
Sen mä portaita alennin.
Tuli sääli sällöäni,
Sekä kaiho kaunoani,
Tempasin tukasta maahan,
Sihen sotkin sormillani,
Pieksin peukaloisillani,
Hautelin halolla päähän,
Sekä vestin vempelellä.
"Ole kiitetty Jumala,
Päästit sulhosta pahasta!
Ennen yksin yön makoan
Kun kahen pahan keralla."

Isä kuitenki sanovi,
Emo aina arvelevi:
"Pahoin teit poloinen lapsi,
Kun sa kaunosi kaotit;
Pah' oli pahan keralla,
Paha aivinki pahatta."

Oli yötä kaksi, kolme,
Viisi kuusi vuorokautta.
Äsken tuon toeksi tunsin,
Öitä yksin maatessani:
Pah' oli pahan keralla,
Ei parempi yksinäni.
Menin kohta katsomahan
Kaonnutta kaunoani;
Kauno kengän ompelossa,
Punapaulojen punossa.
"Kellen noita kenkäsiä?"

"Kellen muulle kun sinulle,
Kun hyvälle konsanaki."

Vein mä kaunoni tupahan,
Asettelin pöyän päähän,
Syötin, juotin kylläseksi,
Apatin alanenäksi,
Otin kaunon selkähäni,
Kannoin kaunoni pihalle,
Vein tuota vesipolulle.
Tuli sirkka, söi se silmän,
Tuli torakka, toisen kaivoi,
Sääski särpi kuivillehen,
Vesilintu vei peräti.
Loin tukasta selkähäni,
Vein tuon peltojen perille,
Takimmalle tanhualle,
Sihen heitin herttaseni,
Sekä kaunoni kaotin.
Kävin tuota katsomahan
Kahen, kolmen yön perästä;
Jo tuolle korppi koulun kantoi,
Ja harakka hanan kaivoi;
Kävin vielä katsomassa
Viien, kuuen viikon päästä;
Jo oli kehnot kekri pietty
Mustat linnut muistinpäivä.

Iskin kahta kämmentäni
Kahen puolin kylkiäni:
"Ole kiitetty Jumala!
Pääsin kolmesta pahasta:
Venehestä vuotavasta,
Heposesta heittiöstä,
Sulhosta pahatavasta.
Venehen tulella poltin,
Heposen hukille syötin,
Sulhon surmalla tapatin."

50. Sulhon valitsija.

Etsin neittä vellolleni,
Kumpalia kullalleni.
Löysin neitosen lehosta,
Hienohelman heiniköstä.
Kysyttelin, lausuttelin
"Lähetkö neiti vellolleni,
Kumpaliksi kullalleni?"

Neiti varsin vastaeli:
"Minä miessä vellosesi?"
"Paimenena velloseni."

"Enmä lähe paimenelle--
Pah' on paita paimenella,
Ei saata sivussa maata,
Alla leuan lämmitellä,
Alla kainalon asua."

Etsin neittä vellolleni,
Kumpalia kullalleni.
Löysin neitosen lehosta,
Hienohelman heiniköstä.
Kysyttelin, lausuttelin
"Lähetkö neiti vellolleni,
Kumpaliksi kullalleni?"

Neiti varsin vastaeli:
"Minä miessä vellosesi?"
"Kyttämiessä velloseni."

"En lähe minä kytälle--
Kyttä haisevi havulle,
Ei saata sivussa maata,
Alla leuan lämmitellä,
Alla kainalon asua.-"

Etsin neittä vellolleni,
Kumpalia kullalleni.
Löysin neitosen lehosta,
Hienohelman heiniköstä.
Kysyttelin, lausuttelin:
"Lähetkö neiti vellolleni,
Kumpaliksi kullalleni?"

Neiti varsin vastaeli:
"Minä miessä vellosesi?"
"Kalamiessä velloseni."

"En mene kalastajalle
Se kalalle katkuavi,
Ei saata sivussa maata,
Alla leuan lämmitellä,
Alla kainalon asua."

Etsin neittä vellolleni,
Kumpalia kullalleni.
Löysin neitosen lehosta,
Hienohelman heiniköstä.
Kysyttelin, lausuttelin:
"Lähetkö neiti vellolleni,
Kumpaliksi kullalleni?"

Neiti varsin vastaeli:
"Minä miessä vellosesi?"
"Kyntäjänä velloseni."

"Jo lähenki kyntäjälle:
Lämmin kylki kyntäjällä,
Saattavi sivussa maata,
Alla leuan lämmitellä,
Alla kainalon asua."

51. Kukkien tarves.

Juoksevi jokea kolme
Ympäri minun kotini,
Kahen puolen kartanoni.
Yksi joki mettä juoksi,
Toinen simoa siretti,
Kolmansi olon punaisen.
Tuli veikko vierahaksi,
Siskoni käviämeksi;
Juotin mettä veikolleni,
Siskolle simoa juotin,
Itse join olon punaisen.
Vein mä veikkoni hevosen
Tarhapeltojen perille,
Siltapeltojen sivulle.
Hävisi veikkoni hevonen
Lehmitarhani takoa,
Sinipellon pientarelta.
Laitin rengit etsimähän--
Eipä rengit löytänynnä,
Rengit etsi kirvesvartta.
Laitin piiat etsimähän--
Eipä piiat löytänynnä,
Piiat etsi pirran puuta.
Läksin itse etsimähän
Kolmen koirani keralla,
Viien, kuuen villahännän,
Seitsemän sepelikaulan.
Koirat sotki suota myöten,
Mie itse mäkiä myöten;
Löysin veikkoni hevosen
Tarhapeltojen tasalta,
Siltapeltojen sivulta;
Tuolle selkähän kavahin--
Ajoin rannat rapsutellen,
Hiekkarannat herskutellen;
Hiekat silmille sirisi,
Mullat parskui parmoilleni.
Tuli Kiesus vastahani,
Vaskivarpoja sylissä,
Kultakukkia käessä,
Mie noita anelemahan:
"Anna Kiesus kukkiasi!"

"Kellen kukkia anelet?"
"Anopille ankaralle--
En tohi kotihin mennä
Ilman noita kukkasitta,
Ilman vaskivarpasitta;
Anoppi kova kotona,
Appi vielä ankarampi,
Paljo saisivat sanoja,
Viikoksi vihan pitoa,
Minun tyhjin tultuani,
Viikon viivyteltyäni."

52. Neiti omegapuussa.

Astuin aamulla varahin,
Läksin aivan aikasehen,
Omenoita ottamahan,
Pähkämiä poimimahan,
Emoni omenamaasta,
Tahi tarhasta isoni.
Näin omenan oksasella,
Punakuoren pääni päällä,
Nousin puuhun nostamatta,
Kohosin kohottamatta;
Toipa surma sulhon nuoren,
Sulhon nuoren, miehen kainun,
Tuli tuo omenispuulle,
Alle oksien osasi.
Suitset seitset vyön takana,
Takatarhilot käessä.

"Mitä suitsin seitsin laait,
Kuta tarhiloin tavotat?"

"Ottaisin omenamarjan,
Punakuoren oksaselta."

Annoin oksalta omenan,
Puotin punaisen kuoren.

Sulho tuosta noin sanovi,
Itse lausui ja pakisi:
"En ole etsossa omenan,
Punakuoren poiminnassa,
Olen neion etsinnässä,
Punaposken poiminnassa."

"Ei ole meiän neitojamme,
Ei meiän kotikanoja,
Suitsin seitsin ottaminen,
Tarhiloin tavottaminen;
Vielä näistä neitosista,
Ja näistä kotikanoista,
Äyrit äyhtien tulevat,
Pienet rahat piehtaroien,
Killingit kipoa lyöen,
Tolpat toistansa ajaen."

"Vielä näistä neitosista
Ja näistä kotikanoista
Suku juopi suuret sarkat,
Heimo hempiät pikarit,
Kosija kokevi tuopit,
Kaaso kannut kallistavi."

"Vielä näistä neitosista
Ja näistä kotikanoista
Isolleni ilvesturkki,
Ruisleivän ruokkimasta,
Emolleni näätälakki
Nännillä imettämästä,
Veikolleni verkaliivi
Kantamistahan kaloista,
Siskolle sininen kosto
Kanssani kasuamasta."

53. Kaonnut poika.

Läksi poika puolukkahan,
Toinen poika mustikkahan,
Kolmansi jänön jälille,
Koukkupolven polkumille.
Tuli poika puolukasta,
Poika toinen mustikasta,
Ei tullut jänön jäliltä,
Koukkupolven polkumilta.

Läksi iso etsimähän
Olutveellä otraisella,
Kakraisella kannikalla,
Leivällä rukehisella.

Etsi pientä poiuttansa,
Kullaista omenuttansa;
Eip' on löyä poiuttansa,
Kullaista omenuttansa.

Läksi emo etsimähän
Olutveellä otraisella,
Kakraisella kannikalla,
Leivällä rukehisella.

Etsi pientä poiuttansa,
Kullaista omenuttansa;
Eip' on löyä poiuttansa,
Kullaista omenuttansa.

Läksi veikko etsimähän
Olutveellä otraisella,
Kakraisella kannikalla,
Leivällä rukehisella.

Etsi pientä vellyttänsä,
Kullaista omenuttansa;
Eip' on löyä vellyttänsä,
Kullaista omenuttansa.

Läksi sikko etsimähän
Olutveellä otraisella,
Kakraisella kannikalla,
Leivällä rukehisella.

Etsi pientä vellyttänsä,
Kullaista omenuttansa.
"Missäpä olet veikko rukka?
Tule pois veikko rukka!"

"Enpä pääse sikko rukka:
Pilvet päätäni pitävät,
Hattarat hivuksiani,
Vipu toista jalkoani;
Päästä päätä Päivän poika,
Silmiä hyvä sikiä,
Silmät tähtiä lukevi,
Sääret honkia hosuvi."

"Kuu kulta, Jumalan luoma,
Lähes päätä päästämähän,
Syötä Karjalan kaloja,
Kuvetjärven kuorehia!"

54. Suen vivulla käynyt.

Kolm' on poikoa emolla,
Kolme lasta vanhemmalla.
Läksi poikanen kalahan,
Toinen poika tuorehesen,
Kolmansi suen vivuille.
Tuli poikanen kalasta,
Poika toinen tuorehesta,
Ei tullut suen vivulta.

Kenen poikoa ikävä?
Emon poikoa ikävä.

Läksi emo etsimähän
Kaonnutta poikoansa.
Juoksi korvet kontiona,
Sutena salot samosi,
Kohta kolmen yön perästä,
Viikon päästä viimeistäki,
Nousi suurelle mäelle,
Korkialle kukkuralle,
Huuti tuolta poikoansa:
"Missä olet poikueni?
Tule poikani kotihin!"

Poika tuolta vastoavi:
"En minä emoni pääse
Pilvet päätäni pitävät,
Hattarat hakuliani,
Kaaret kainaloisiani,
Vipu toista jalkoani,
Sääret honkia hosuvi,
Silmät tähtiä lukevi,
Eessäni pimiä pilvi,
Takanani taivas kirkas."

55. Virossa posija.

Poikanen posi Virossa,
Saksan maalla sairasteli
Tautia nimettömiä,
Nimen tietämättömiä.

"Missä saapi sairas maata,
Tuskahinen tunnin olla?
Tokkos voit tuvassa maata,
Tokkos penkillä levätä?"

"Enmä voi tuvassa maata,
Enkä penkillä levätä,
Isännän ilopiolta,
Renkipoikien remulta."

Poikanen posi Virossa,
Saksan maalla sairasteli
Tautia nimettömiä,
Nimen tietämättömiä.

"Missä saapi sairas maata,
Tuskahinen tunnin olla?
Tokkos voit merellä maata,
Tokkos luovolla levätä?"

"Makoaisin maavesillä,
Vaan ei voi Viron vesillä,
Maat' en lokkien lojulta,
Kalalintujen kajulta."

Poikanen posi Virossa,
Saksan maalla sairasteli.

"Missä saapi sairas maata,
Tuskahinen tunnin olla?
Tokkos voit manalla maata,
Maata Tuonelan tuvilla?"

"Viekäte minua maata,
Tupatkate tuutumahan
Tuonne Tuonelan tuville,
Manalan ikimajoille;
Siellä saapi sairas maata,
Tuskahinen tunnin olla,
Ikuisilla vuotehilla,
Polvuisilla pääaloilla."

56. Kosissa käynyt.

Ajoi kaksi kaupanmiestä
Jäletysten jäätä myöten;
Orit konsti kummallaki,
Hiirenkarvainen hevonen.
Isoni orihin osti,
Hiirenkarvaisen hevosen;
Osti sormukset soriat,
Sekä kihlat kirkkahimmat
Minun nallin naiakseni,
Kenstin kestaellakseni,
Ja konstin kosissa käyä.

Läksin konsti kulkemahan,
Kensti käymähän kosissa;
Nousin rannalta mäkehen.
Talopa oli mäellä,
Ei saata sivutse mennä,
Ei ylätse, ei alatse;
Ajoin talon tanhualle,
Talon pienille pihoille.
Neito kukkana kujassa,
Kalittuna kartanossa:
Kysyttelin, lausuttelin:
"Onko sinussa miehen naista,
Molotselle morsianta?
Joko tieät tikkaella,
Joko ommella osoat."

Neiti varsin vastaeli:
"Jos en tieä tikkaella,
Enkä ommella osoa,
Tikatkahan tietävämmät,
Osaavammat ommelkohot.
Eikä arvellut emoni,
Ei luvannut vanhempani,
Neittä myötävän turulla,
Tarittavan tanterella:
Turull' on tupakan kauppa,
Tamman kauppa tanterella,
Neito myöähän tuvassa,
Katon alla kaupitahan."

Tuli tuo kukkapää tupahan,
Kassapää katoksen alle;
Mie tuota ihoamahan,
Silmät oli pesty silloin tällöin,
Poskipäät ei polvenahan,
Korvia ei kuuna päänä.

57. Konnan tytär.

Eilen meillä lehmä poiki,
Teki valkian vasikan:
Vaskisarvi, kultakynsi,
Hopia otsassa hohti.
Isoseni, ainoseni,
Vie'pä tuota Wiipurihin,
Saata kaupunnin kaulle:
Tuo tuolta orihevonen,
Tahi pieni tammasälkö,
Jonk' on lampi lautasilla,
Lähe länkien sialla,
Josta velhot vettä juovat,
Katehet kaloja syövät!
Osta kahet kankisuitset,
Vaskikannukset keralla!
Itse mä satulan saisin
Kovan koivun kuoren alta.
Orihilla otrat kynnän,
Tammalla talon asetan.
Lähen kullalla kosihin,
Hopialla liehumahan
Mokomata morsianta,
Konnun kuulua tytärtä
Ankaran anopin luota,
Apen ankaran talosta.

Isoseni ainoseni
Vei vasikan Wiipurihin.
Osti mulle mustan ruunan,
Vaihtoi pienen tamman varsan.
Ajoin varsani vaolle,
Mullokselle mustan ruunan,
Kynnin kymmenen vakoa,
Kynnin kaiketi kaheksan.
Varsa haukki varvunpäitä,
Musta ruuna ruohonpäitä.
Heitin varsani vaolle,
Mustan ruunan mullokselle,
Itse lehtohon letustin,
Hopiaisehen salohon,
Vaskisehen varvikkohon,
Kultaisehen koivikkohon,
Leikkasin lehosta virven,
Vesan tammisen tapasin,
Kultaisesta koivikolta,
Hopiaisesta salosta.
Toi surma susia paljon,
Kantoi metsä karvasuita,
Söivät varsan vaolta,
Mustan ruunan mullokselta.

Menin itkien kotihin,
Kallotellen kartanolle.
Iso portilla kysyvi:
"Mitä itket poikaseni?"

"Sitä itken taattoseni,
Vanhempaiseni valitan
Ajoin varsani vaolle,
Mustan ruunan mullokselle,
Kynnin kymmenen vakoa
Kynnin kaiketi kaheksan.
Varsa hankki varvunpäitä,
Ruuna katsoi ruohonpäitä.
Heitin varsani vaolle,
Mustan ruunan mullokselle,
Minä lehtohon letustin,
Kultaisehen koivikkohon,
Vaskisehen varvikkohon,
Hopiaisehen salohon.
Leikkasin lehosta virven,
Vesan tammisen tapasin,
Kultaisesta koivikosta,
Hopiaisesta salosta.
Toi surma susia paljon,
Metsä kantoi karvasuita,
Söivät varsani vaolta,
Mustan ruunan mullokselta."

Tuon iso sanoiksi virkki:
"Elä itke poikaseni!
Läksinpä minäi muinen,
Läksin mie kauas kalahan:
Tuuli voitti, airo taittui,
Vene haapainen hajosi.
Panin sormet soutimeksi,
Peukalon perämelaksi;
Souin sormin saaroselle,
Kämmenin käpysalolle,
Niin veistin venon paremman,
Laitin purren pulskahamman.
Sie osta ori parempi,
Varsa kahta kaunihimpi."

Ostin mie orihin uuen,
Varsan kahta kaunihimman.
Orihilla otrat kynnin,
Tammalla talon asetin,
Läksin kullassa kosihin,
Hopiassa liehumahan
Mokomata morsianta,
Konnun kuulua tytärtä.

Anoppi koria muori
Oli aittahan menevä.
Puhuttelin, lausuttelin:
"Onko teillä neittä myöä,
Tahi kaupita kanaista?"

Anoppi koria muori
Hänpä varsin vastaeli:
"Kanan kauppa orren alla,
Neien nelisnurkkasessa."

Meninpä minä tupahan,
Puhuttelin, lausuttelin:
"Onko teillä neittä myöä,
Tahi kaupita kanaista?"

Tuotihinp' olutta tuoppi,
Tuoppi olutta, toinen mettä.

"Enpä huoli syömisistä,
Enkä varsin juomisista,
Saisin nähä neitoseni--
Tuokate tupahan neittä!"

Tuotihin tupahan neittä
Sisaresten siiven alla,
Veljen akan verhon alla,
Kälysten käsivaralla.
Ei ole tuossa miehen naista,
Eikä miehen morsianta:
Paha raiska paita päällä,
Jatketut sukat jalassa,
Silmät pesty silloin tällöin,
Silmäkulmat milloin kulloin,
Suut' ei siivottu ikänä,
Poskipäit' ei polvenahan.*
Enpä tainnut tuota naia,
Kun oli musta kun torakka;
En tainnut vihille vieä,
Panna en papin etehen.

58. Vaimon saanut.

"Annas minulle Anniasi,
Liitä lempilintuasi!"

"Enpä anna Anniani,
Liitä lempilintuani.
Ei Anni ko'ista joua:
Anni tarkoin tarvitahan
Pesemässä pyöräpöyät,
Lattiat lakasemassa;
Tästä kulkevi kuningas,
Vaeltavi linnan vanhin."

"Anna mulle Anniasi,
Liitä lempilintuasi!"

"Enpä anna Anniani,
Liitä lempilintuani;
Enpä anna ollenkana,
Kuulematta kullenkana,
Pahoille rekipajuille,
Likaisille liistehille,
Kaskikannoille koville,
Nokisille nuotioille."

"Enpä ota Anniasi,
Enkä taho tyttöäsi
Pahoille rekipajuille,
Likaisille liistehille,
Kaskikannoille koville,
Nokisille nuotioille;
Otanpa oluttupihin,
Tahon vehnätahtahille."

Tuosta Anni annettihin,
Perä paksu paiskattihin.
Päivän söi, makasi toisen,
Kohta kolmannen toruvi;
Tuli riski riitelijä,
Aivan tarkka tappelija,
Taitava tukan vetäjä,
Hapsien haraelija,
Ei tullut tuvan pesijä,
Saanut ei saunan lämmittäjä.

59. Viisastunut.

Isä neuoi poikoansa,
Vanhin vaivansa näköä,
Kun kuki sukimojansa,
Itse ilmöin luomiansa:
"Poikueni, nuorempani,
Lapseni, vakavampani,
Kun sulle halu tulevi,
Naia mielesi tekevi,
Tuoa minneä talohon,
Emäntätä etsiellä,
Nouse aamulla varahin,
Aivan aika huomenessa,
Katsele kyliä myöten,
Katsele talo talolta,
Kust' on savu ensimmäinen,
Siitä naios poikueni."

Pani poikanen opiksi.
Nousi aivan aikasehen,
Aivan aika huomenessa,
Käveli kyliä myöten,
Katseli talo talolta;
Savun saarelta näkevi,
Tulen niemen tutkamelta.

Kävi tietä, astelevi
Saaren kuuluhun kotihin,
Ilman koiran kuulematta,
Harakan hatsattamatta.

Sitte tultua tupahan
Itse tuossa arvelevi:
"Oisiko tytärtä täällä,
Tämän pojan puolisoa?"

Päätyi neiti leipomassa,
Tyttönen taputtamassa;
Sanan virkkoi, noin nimesi:
"Mikä lietki miehiäsi,
Ku kylän kävijöitäsi,
Tavatta tupahan tullut,
Neion etsohon nenättä;
Ellös konsana Jumala
Luo kotia koiratonta,
Kasitonta karsinoa,
Pihoa harakatonta,
Lapsitonta ikkunoa!"

Niin poika sanoiksi virkki:
"Miss' on taattosi sinulta,
Minne mennyt maammosesi,
Kanssa kaikki muut imeiset?"

Tyttö saattavi sanoa,
Neiti varsin vastaella:
"Taattoni talon pihalla
Eestakaisin astelevi;
Maammo parka paimentavi
Mennehen kesän kisoja;
Veikkoni ve'en varassa
Vähäll' äiän ottelevi."

Läksi poikanen kotihin.
"Jo mie kävin, taattoseni,
Kävelin kyliä myöten,
Katselin talo talolta,
Varahaisinta savua:
Näin mä saarella savusen,
Tulen niemen tutkamessa,
Menin mie sihen talohon,
Eikä mua koirat kuultu,
Eikä haukkujat havattu:
Kysyin tyttöä talosta."

"Oli tyttö leipomassa
Noin se varsin vastaeli:
Ellös konsana Jumala,
Luo kotia koiratonta,
Pihoa harakatonta,
Lapsitonta ikkunoa;
Mikä lietki miehiäsi,
Ku kylän kävijöitäsi,
Tavatta tupahan tullut,
Neien etsohon nenättä!"

"Kun sitte kysyin tytöltä
Missä taatto, missä maammo,
Missä kaikki muut talosta?
Noin se saatteli sanoa,
Noin varsin vastaella:"
"Taattoni talon pihalla
Eestakaisin astumassa,
Maammo parka paimenessa
Kesän mennehen kisoja,
Veikkoni ve'en varassa
Vähäll' äiän ottamassa."
"Niinp' on niin sanoi mokomin,
Niinpä mieletön pakisi."

Tuon iso sanoiksi virkki:
"Itse siulla poikaseni
Ei ollut älyä äiä,
Eikä paljo mieltä päässä,
Sentähen sanoi sinua
Tullehen tavattomasti,
Kun ei koira kaukkununna,
Harakka hatsahtanunna,
Lapsi eellä ilmottanna,
Kasi pyyhkint kasvojansa;
Tahi kun oisit sintsissäki
Eellä niistänyt nenäsi,
Siit' oisi tyttö ennättänyt
Panna päällensä jotai,
Ei oisi nähty leipomassa
Paljahalla paiallahan.
Kun sitte sanoi olevan
Taattonsa talon pihalla
Eestakaisin astumassa:
Taatto pellon kynnännässä;
Maammosensa paimenessa
Kesän mennehen kisoissa,
Silloin maammonsa makasi
Lapsisaunassa samassa;
Veljensä ve'en varassa
Vähäll' äiän ottamassa:
Veli veellä onkimassa.
Jo tuon näen kyselemättäi,
Arvelen anelematta,
Saat siitä valitun vaimon,
Sekä mielevän miniän;
Mene sie sihen talohon,
Tuo minulle minnä siitä!"

Meni toiste, toi miniän,
Sai tarkan talosen vaimon.
Sitte ensi-iltasella
Virkkoi nainut naisellehen,
Kuiskutteli kullallehen:
"Mi lie tullut taatolleni,
Kuka kummanen isolle?
Kahen tietä käyessämme,
Palatessamme palolta,
Oli kun mennyt mieleltänsä,
Äsken puuttunut älyltä.
Noin sanoi iso minulle,
Noinpa lausui laittomia:
Jo oisit jaloki poika,
Kun mulle jalan hakisit;
Jo oisit jaloki poika,
Kun tekisit tien lyhemmän;
Jo oisit jaloki poika,
Kun käteni katkoaisit;
Jo oisit jaloki poika,
Kun panisit pääni poikki."

Nainen arvasi asian,
Kysyi kohta mieheltänsä:
"Tokko teit mitä aneli,
Mitä käski ja kehotti?"

"Kuin nyt kummia kyselet,
Kuinka taisin kumminkana
Saaha jalkoa isolle,
Tehä tietä lyhemmäksi,
Taisinko katkasta kätensä,
Eli panna päänsä poikki."

"Oisit tainnut, oisit tiennyt,
Kun oisit oikein älynnyt.
Saua jatkoa jalompi,
Tarinoiten tie lyhempi,
Kinnas jatkona käessä,
Korkona kypäri päässä.
Sanan voimaton pitävi,
Tarinoivat tienkävijät,
Vaikia kesällä kinnas,
Läyli lakki lämpimällä.
Leikkoa ukolle saua,
Se hänelle jalka kolmas;
Tarinoitse tietä käyen,
Se hänestä tie lyhempi;
Ota kintahat ukolta,
Sillä katkaset kätensä;
Ota lakki päälaelta,
Sillä lasket päänsä poikki."

Jopa päivällä jälestä
Taasen tietä käyessänsä.
Poika paljoki pakisi,
Leikkasi kepin lehosta,
Otti kintahat ukolta,
Päästä lakkia kyseli.

Se kaikki hyvä ukosta.
Itse lausui lapsellensa,
Pojallensa noin puheli:
"Jo tuon näen kyselemättäi,
Jo on yön yhen levännyt
Viisahampi vieressäsi."

60. Hiihtäjä surma.

Surma hiihti suota myöten,
Tauti talvitietä myöten.
Noin puhuvi suuri surma,
Aika tauti arvelevi
Talon aittojen takana,
Mäen alla männikössä:
"Kenenpä tapan talosta,
Tapanko ukon talosta?"

"Jos tapan ukon talosta,
Katoisi kalat merehen,
Ei oisi tuojoa pihalle,
Nuotat tukkuhun tulisi,
Verkot muunne vierrähtäisi.
En tapa ukkoa talosta!"

Surma hiihti suota myöten,
Tauti talvitietä myöten.
Noin puhuvi suuri surma,
Aika tauti arvelevi
Talon aittojen takana,
Mäen alla männikössä:
"Kenenpä tapan talosta,
Tapanko akan talosta?"

"Jos tapan akan talosta,
Uni uunilta katoisi,
Penkiltä perä leviä,
Toruja talon tuvasta,
Kalkuttaja karsinasta.
En tapa akkoa talosta!"

Surma hiihti suota myöten,
Tauti talvitietä myöten.
Noin puhuvi suuri surma,
Aika tauti arvelevi
Talon aittojen takana,
Mäen alla männikössä:
"Kenenpä tapan talosta,
Tapanko talon isännän?"

"Jos tapan talon isännän,
Taitaisi talo hävitä,
Pian mennä pieni maani;
Missäpä vierahat viruisi,
Majoaisi matkamiehet.
En tapa isänteäni!"

Surma hiihti suota myöten,
Tauti talvitietä myöten.
Noin puhuvi suuri surma,
Aika tauti arvelevi
Talon aittojen takana,
Mäen alla männikössä:
"Kenenpä tapan talosta,
Tapanko talon emännän?"

"Jos tapan talon emännän,
Kapeneisi karjamaani,
Lyheneisi lehmän lypsi,
Maitokupit kuivettuisi,
Ravistuisi voirasiat.
En tapa emänteäni!"

Surma hiihti suota myöten,
Tauti talvitietä myöten.
Noin puhuvi suuri surma,
Aika tauti arvelevi
Talon aittojen takana,
Mäen alla männikössä:
"Kenenpä tapan talosta,
Tapanko pojan talosta?"

"Jos tapan pojan talosta,
Kaskikirvehet katoisi,
Jyvälaarit laukiaisi,
Aatra vaipuisi vaolle,
Kyykistyisi kynnökselle.
En tapa poikoa talosta!"

Surma hiihti suota myöten,
Tauti talvitietä myöten.
Noin puhuvi suuri surma,
Aika tauti arvelevi
Talon aittojen takana,
Mäen alla männikössä:
"Kenenpä tapan talosta,
Tapanko tytön talosta?"

"Jos tapan tytön talosta,
Katoisi hiiri hinkalosta,
Rotta ruokahuonehesta,
Jäisi sulhoset surulle,
Poikaset pahoille mielin.
En tapa tyttöä talosta!"

Surma hiihti suota myöten,
Tauti talvitietä myöten.
Noin puhuvi suuri surma,
Aika tauti arvelevi
Talon aittojen takana,
Mäen alla männikössä:
"Kenenpä tapan talosta,
Tapanko talosta minnän?"

"Jos tapan talosta minnän,
Ei tuosta talo hävinne,
Naimoiksi nainen katovi,
Ori toisen ostamoiksi;
Nainen toinen naitanehe,
Emäntä etsittänehe,
Eleä emännän kanssa,
Polvet poikoa piellä,
Käsi lasta käännytellä,
Niinkun muillaki emoilla."

Tappoipa talosta minnän,
Pojan naisen pois panetti.
Mies se naipi uuen naisen,
Etsivi emännän toisen,
Saapi naisen naimisella,
Etsimällähän emännän;
Saa ei lapselle emoa,
Huonoiselle hoitajoa,
Nännin suuhun survojoa,
Rinnan suuhun rientäjeä;
Lapset jäivät itkemähän,
Pienoiset pisartamahan.

Source Colophon

Finnish source text from Elias Lönnrot, Kanteletar taikka Suomen kansan vanhoja lauluja ja virsiä (Helsinki: Recks, 1840). Digitized text from Project Gutenberg eBook #7078. Songs 32–60 of Book III, Section III — Tarunomaiset virret (Legendary Songs).

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