On a wagon bound for market
There's a calf with a mournful eye
High above him there's a swallow,
winging swiftly through the sky.
"Stop complaining!" said the farmer,
Who told you a calf to be?
Why don't you have wings to fly with
like the swallow so proud and free?
Calves are easily bound and slaughtered,
never knowing the reason why
But whoever treasures freedom
like the swallow has learned to fly.