Away, away in the Northland,
Where the hours of the day are few,
And the nights are so long in winter,
They can not sleep them through;
Where they harness the swift reindeer
To the sledges when it snows;
And the children look like bear's cubs,
In their funny, furry clothes:
They tell them a curious story--
I don't believe 'tis true;
And yet you may learn a lesson
If I tell the tale to you.
Once, when the good Saint Peter
Lived in the world below,
And walked about it, preaching,
Just as he did, you know;
He came to the door of a cottage,
In traveling round the earth,
Where a little woman was making cakes,
In the ashes on the hearth.
And being faint with fasting--
For the day was almost done--
He asked her, from her store of cakes,
To give him a single one.
So she made a very little cake,
But as it baking lay,
She looked at it and thought it seemed
Too large to give away.
Therefore she kneaded another,
And still a smaller one;
But it looked, when she turned it over,
As large as the first had done.
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