Oh, my grove, oh, my grove,
Oh, my grove green.
Why do you have no children,
Oh my grove green?
So the grove gave birth
To a spruce and a birch grove thick.
Once across that spruce grove
Wandered two brothers.
Timber they were hewing
To build themselves a home.
They thought what they built was a home,
But it looked like a dungeon dark.
“Oh, my brethren we shall not know
A holiday from a workday.
Oh, my brethren we shall not know
Winter from summer.”
Oh, my grove, oh, my grove,
Oh, my grove green. |
