Little boat, little boat, sail far away, O’er the blue water away and away. The Evil Woman’s calling me

So the wise woman saw she must act the mother’s voice, so she ran to the smith and asked him, “Smith, just forge me a thin little voice like the one Iváshechko’s mother has, or I’ll eat you up!” So the smith forged the voice just like the mother’s. So up she went to the shore and sang:

Iváshechko, Iváshechko, my little son,

Up to the shore let your little boat run:

Here is some drink and here is a bun!

Iváshechko, Iváshechko, my little son, Up to the shore let your little boat run: Here is some drink and here is a bun!