V.
ALL the week at the wedding cake
Young women in crowds both mix and bake.
The old man is in wondrous glee,
With all the young women dances he.
At sweeping the yard
He labors hard.
All passers-by on foot and horseback
He hales to the court where is no lack
Of good home-brew.
All comers he asks to the marriage
And yet 'tis true
He runs around so
You'd not guess from his carriage
Though his joy is such a wonderful gift,
His old legs are 'most too heavy to lift.
Everywhere is disorder and laughter
Within the house and in the yard.
From store-room keg upon keg follows after,
Workers' voices everywhere heard.
They bake, they boil,
At sweeping toil,
Tables and floors they wash them all.
And where is the Servant
who cares not for wage?
To Kiev she is gone
on pilgrimage.
