None can paint, except Sinetar,
None can weave save Kankahatar.
“Lapland’s children, they are singing,
And the hay-shod ones are chanting,430
As the elk’s rare flesh they feast on,
Or the meat of smaller reindeer,
Wherefore then should I not carol,
Wherefore should our children sing not,
While upon the ryebread feasting,
Or when eating is concluded?
“Lapland’s children, they are singing,
And the hay-shod ones are chanting,
As they drink from water-pitchers,
While they chew the bark of fir-tree.440
Wherefore then should I not carol,
Wherefore should our children sing not,
While the juice of corn we’re drinking,
And the best-brewed ale of barley?
“Lapland’s children they are singing,
And the hay-shod ones are chanting,
Even by the sooty fire,
As they lay the coals upon it.
Wherefore then should I not carol,
Wherefore should our children sing not,450
Underneath these famous rafters,
Underneath a roof so splendid?
“Good it is for men to dwell here,
Good for women to reside here,
All among the barrels ale-filled,
Standing close beside the mead-tubs,
Near the sound where swarm the powans,
Near the place for netting salmon,
Where the food is never failing,
And the drink is never stinted.460
“Good it is for men to dwell here,
Good for women to reside here,
Here to eat by care untroubled,
Here to live without affliction,
Here to eat unvexed by trouble,
And to live without a sorrow,
{rh|vol. i.||X 2}}
