On the green stubble-fields of Autumn
   I saw you, my sweetheart.
   Nice were your feet in shoes
   And wonderful your nimble gait.
   Your hair the color of roses
   And your ringlets tightly plaited
   Alas that we're not married
   Or on board ship sailing away
  
   The boys around here are
   Laughing and getting bold
   And the people of the high straw?
   Are making ?? of my brown girl
   If the King of Spain would
   Go abroad with his assembled men
   I would flatten grass and rank grass
   And I would be with my brown girl
  
   Buying cows at the fair
   If I were ? and my brown girl
   Go and come first love
   Until we go over to Gaoth-Bearra
   Until we separate from each other
   The tops of the branches and the swan
   from the waves ?
   That won't separate us
   And it's only folly for you to put it ??
  
   I wrote a letter
   To my sweetheart and a sharp complaint
   She sent it back to me
   That her heart was inside me.
   Compose the artsswannoble person ?
   Finer than silk or bird feathers
   Heavy is my sigh
   When I think of being apart from her.
  
   What I heard on Sunday
   As conversation among the women
   That she was going to be married
   To a young man from the place.
   Sweetheart take my advice
   And this Autumn stay as you are
   And don't tell anyone, my love,
   That you are my love.