[Verse]

Truly they lie, they talk utter nonsense
Who say that music, reckon that the kantele
Was fashioned by a god
Out of great pike’s shoulders
From a water-dog’s hooked bones:
It was made from the grief

[Chorus]
Its belly out of hard days
Its soundboard from endless woes
Strings gathered from torments
And its pegs from other ills
Truly they lie, they talk utter nonsense

[Chorus]
Its belly out of hard days
Its soundboard from endless woes
Strings gathered from torments
And its pegs from other ills
Truly they lie, they talk utter nonsense

[Verse]
So it not play, will not rejoice at all
Music will not play to please
Give off the right sort of joy
For it was fashioned from cares
Molded from sorrow