Eggs, milk, butter, lard, and flour, it’s time now winter to say goodbye.
Martedi grasso, masopust, fastnacht – we toast the carne vale. With wooden clubs and hedgehog skins and beads, dubloons and throws. Then in fancy dress and masquerade into the street we go. Prepenitent and full of food to ring the pancake bell. Malasadas and fastlagsbulles, laskiaispulla for Bonhomme. We eat and dance and drink and sing, for the season that’s to come.