Lingon berries.

Blue-White grates, barn doors stories. 
Please try to conquer my heart. 
I am a woman as the Kalevala, Marjatta, 
full of sour lingon berries. 
Come and soften the acidity, 
my heart to yours butter. 
Glue together the clay pot, 
Finnish woman, you feel so melancholic. 
The soul of the house is a rambling, as 
a lonely man. 

Where is the key port 
locked, which leads unto the son of laughter mouth? 
Then as I was a small woman, 
I had a beautiful brown amber beads. 
The Crow boots I got in summer, 
when you were not patent leather shoes 
good in the legs of a small woman.