SONG OF THE TROUBLED ONE by AMORPHIS What the thrush toils at The partridge asks for The hapless one takes The troubled one steals Puts upon a spade Sets on a runner Hides under a door Shields with a bath-whisk The farmer hammers And tempers his spears Marries off his sons Hands out his daughters In boots clogged with ckay In fancy mittens The sea-swell rumbles And the winds it blows And the king hears it From five miles away From six directions From seven back woods From eight heaths away. [ www.dailyrics.com ] SONGOFTHETROUBLEDONE by AMORPHIS