Allow me to sing you
the song of my people,
says the common snipe
from Hallgrímskirkja’s steeple.

The arctic blue fox
has skin for days.
We skinned his sleek fur
with a sharpened blade.

From crown to chandelier
the reindeer's reign passed.
We sucked antler's marrow
and poured a bronze cast.

So many people were gathered there
in the circle’s three rows.
And a Britney song was on.
Farmers came to blows.