Guest
The farmer walks to the woods There he saw a crow sitting there, sleeping And the farmer put the bow to his knee Then he shot the crow down from the tree And the farmer put the bow to his feet then he shot the crow to the heart’s blood And there came a messenger from the bishop’s farm “What did you do with the crow you shot yesterday?” From the head, I made a church button From the the beak I made a barrel-plug From the feathers I thatched my house From the heart I made a drinking mug From the skeleton I made a good ship The best thing that went out in the fjord From the intestines I made tackle and rope From the bones I made a digging fork
