Perun, upon this holiday
Release your thunder’s roar,
’Twere wasteful to use powder,
We need it in our war.
"Send thunderbolts, to save my guns,
Upon this day of glee—
Then you come and enjoy a cup
Of chocolate with me.”
The guard arrived at Perun’s gate
And knocked with noisy din,
And sharply asked the scullion maid:
“Is Daddy Perun in?”
“Yes, Mister Guard, he’s home, all right,
Cross as a bear—and rants—
A-top the bake-oven he sits,
A-patching up his pants.”
“Our Tsar, dear Dad, sends his regards;
He ordered me to come
With the command that you should beat
Today your loudest drum.”
When god Perun this mandate heard,
He puckered up his brow,
He threw the trousers to the floor
And made an awful row.
“I’d rather herd the village geese
And wade through mire and smear
Than to slave on this job as god
For your Tsar Vladimir.
[22]
