A fairy tale about the king
Far away from here, far,
In the capital city, but not in ours,
There was a king, who drank milk
And he ate a lot of groats.
The cooks were worried:
"O, rety! What's happening?
The king orders the porridge to be served,
The king doesn't eat anything else!
How can you work here?
And how to serve such a man here?
The King doesn't want the rotisserie duck
Not grilled salmon,
The king won't even touch an egg,
The king won't even eat dumplings,
Which in all countries
Kings usually ate. "
And the king was laughing: "Me yours
Complaints will not be moved,
I only eat groats,
Take away other dishes!
Let the cupbearer come,
And although he also complains,
Let me porridge from the bottle
Pour a glass of milk!”
The Great Council sighed:
“We eat like peasants,
Because it rules our country
Kaszojad i Mlekopij.
Every day on a tray
They serve a bowl of porridge –
That's how poor people can eat
From the basement or the attic,
But we, Royal Council,
The nation's oldest guard,
It doesn't even fit us,
To make the bowels play a march!”
And the king continued to grow and grow vigorous,
He grew healthier with age,
And he grew stronger, and grew stronger
Eating porridge with milk.
But he was not a bastard
And he hated wars,
And he had such a rule:
What's yours, it's not mine.
The enemy stayed far away,
Because the king scared the enemy away.
And you are drinking milk?
Do you eat a lot of porridge?