THE KOBZAR OF THE UKRAINE
47
III.
THEIR joys do now such numbers reach
God fathers and mothers
'Mid lots of others
Behold they have gathered
Three pairs of each.
At even they christen him,
And Mark is the name of him.
So Mark grows,
And so it goes.
For the dear old folk it is no joke,
For they don't know where to go,
Where to set him, when to pet him.
But the year goes and still Mark grows.
Yet they care for him, you'd scarce tell how,
Just as he were a good milk-cow.
And now a woman young and bright,
With eyebrows dark and skin so white,
Comes into this blessed place,
For servant's task she asks with grace.
"What, what—
say we'll take her 'Stasia."
"We'll take her, Trophimus.
We are old and little wearies us;
