During the Tsar's carousal
And revels at his court
His god Perun was grouchy—
His humor out of sort.
“Who never had a job as god
Will never know, indeed,
The precarious existence
A busy god must lead.
Before he breakfasts he must spray
The dew. When that is done
He takes the light out of the moon
And heats the shining sun.
He has to lock the imps of night
In, with the devil’s troop,—
Then call the little twinkling stars
Like chickens, to their coop.
And then for all the animals—
Or birds, or bugs—he pours
Their rations every morning
Out from his meager stores.
“But my real troubles just begin
When folks get out of bed;
With all their noisy racket
I almost lose my head.
“Who never had a hornet
A-buzzing in his ear,
He knows not what god Perun
Each morning has to hear.
[28]
