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“I shall no longer thunder,
Week-day nor holiday,
For Vladimir or others;
I find it does not pay.”
The messenger, dumbfounded,
Looked silly as a mawk—
“Remember, Daddy Perun,
Be careful with your talk!”
“I, too, am but a servant,
We each must do our bit.
If I should bring this answer
The Tsar would have a fit.”
Perun, enraged, was ready
The messenger to drub,
And reached beneath the table
For his big thunder-club.
The copper did not tarry
And, seized with sudden fear,
Ran fast as legs would carry
Him, to Tsar Vladimir.
“Your Tsarship’s humble servant,
I hasten to report
With abject shame and horror
God Perun’s foul retort.
“He claims he will not thunder;
He chased me like a cur.
Upon your Excellency
He cast a filthy slur.
[24]
