In my little thatched hut
The blue-green grass grows by the brook
I lounge and I look
(I lounge and I look, I lounge and I look)
For my own true love to return
To come rowing in his rowboat back
I'll go to the flower stall
And get a violet to put in my jet-black hair
And make him tell me which one is the more fair
And in the meantime, I cry
And in the meantime, I cry
But what does it matter?
Because when I see him again
It'll be tears of joy