Skilled in woodcraft, sure of aim;
All one day they spent in hunting,
That there might be store of game.
Fathers, brothers (aye, and lovers!),
Home they bring the glossy deer;
Some but praise their hunter’s prowess,
Some, soft-hearted, drop a tear.
I would like to see those housewives,
Busy matrons, maidens too,
Watching by the ripening oven,