| [00:52.70] | Truly they lie, they talk utter nonsense |
| [00:55.57] | Who say that music reckon that the kantele |
| [01:01.39] | Was fashioned by a god |
| [01:05.33] | Out of a great pike's shoulders |
| [01:08.78] | From a water-dog's hooked bones: |
| [01:18.59] | |
| [01:44.42] | It was made from the grief |
| [01:45.86] | Moulded from sorrow |
| [01:46.92] | Its belly out of hard days |
| [01:49.36] | Its soundboard from endless woes |
| [01:57.17] | Its strings gathered from torments |
| [01:59.74] | And its pegs from other ills |
| [02:02.61] | So it will not play, will not rejoice at all |
| [02:06.49] | Music will not play to please |
| [02:09.12] | Give off the right sort of joy |
| [02:10.37] | For it was fashioned from cares |
| [02:11.18] | Moulded from sorrow. |