Then I'll wash beak and feet
And the nice khickri eat;
Though I really don't know
What the Sparrow can mean,
For I'm sure, as Crows go,
I’m remarkably clean!'
But the Grass said, ‘Certainly I will give you Grass; but first you must go to the Blacksmith, and ask him to make you a sickle. Then you can cut me, for who ever heard of Grass cutting itself?'
So the Crow went to the Blacksmith, and said—
‘Your name; sir, is Smith,
But my name is Crow,
Please give me a sickle,
For if you do so
The Grass I can mow
As food for the Cow;
Madam Cow will give milk
To the Deer sleek as silk;
The pain will be borne,
He will give me his horn,
And I'll dig a clean rill
For the water to fill;
Then I'll wash beak and feet
And the nice khichri eat;
Though I really don't know
What the Sparrow can mean,
For I’m sure, as Crows go,
I'm remarkably clean!’
‘With pleasure,’ said the Blacksmith, ‘if you will light the fire and blow the bellows.'
