And took my bones that they might lie
Underneath the juniper tree,
Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!"
The goldsmith was in his workshop making a gold chain, when he heard the song of the bird on his roof. He thought it so beautiful that he got up and ran out, and as he crossed the threshold he lost one of his slippers. But he ran on into the middle of the street, with a slipper on one foot and a sock on the other; he still had on his apron, and still held the gold chain and the pincers in his hands, and so he stood gazing up at the bird, while the sun came shining brightly down on the street.
"Bird," he said, "how beautifully you sing! sing me that song again."
"Nay," said the bird, "I do not sing twice for nothing. Give me that gold chain, and I will sing it you again."
"Here is the chain, take it," said the goldsmith. "Only sing me that again."
The bird flew down and took the gold chain in his right claw, and then he alighted again in front of the goldsmith and sang—
"My mother killed her little son;
My father grieved when I was gone;
My sister loved me best of all;
She laid her kerchief over me,
And took my bones that they might lie
Underneath the juniper tree.
Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!"
Then he flew away, and settled on the roof of a shoemaker's house and sang—
