Oh dear father my,
Where is my mother? –
Your mother is sleeping soundly,
Never let yourself be woken up.
Then the poor child ran
Quickly to the cemetery
And dug his little finger
A hole in the grave.
Oh dear mother my,
Oh, can I be with you?,
The other strikes me so much,
Don’t give me life anymore.
And give me the bread,
So she wishes me death;
But you, dear mother, yes you
You added butter and honey.
And she combs my hair,
So always bleeds;
But you, dear mother, yes you
You added colorful bows.