My Kantele Songtext
von Amorphis

Truly they lie, they talk utter nonsense
Who say that music reckon that the kantele
Was fashioned by a god out of a great pike′s shoulders
From a water-dog's hooked bones it was made from the grief
Its belly out of hard days
Its soundboard from endless woes
Its strings gathered from torments and its pegs from other ills
Through a day ride they talk of their dances
Its belly out of hard days Its soundboard from endless woes
Its strings gathered from torments and its pegs from other ills
Through a day ride they talk of their dances
So it will 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