Sunday on the Ammerwiese
Liese upright tends the geese.
Suddenly Jacob comes along
holding a sickle in his hand.
This one he moves from time to time
below Liese its skirt and bodice.
He wants to taste her, wants to force her
and the boy will be singing:
My dear Liese, don't care the geese
I want to taste your skin.
Bloody and rusty the scythe will be
if not friendly you are to me.
Jacob now may lick Liese
and like pears she will taste.
Small hairs stand up and
soon they rush to the wheat field.
In this golden flood* well hidden
he has ridden her.
Until evening he holds her dear
and sings to her...
My dear Liese, don't care the geese
I want to taste your skin.
Bloody and rusty the scythe will be
if not friendly you are to me.
My dear Liese, don't care the geese
I want to taste your skin.
Bloody and rusty the scythe will be
if not friendly you are to me.
*German poetic description for wheat field
This puts a new slant on parts of the song, so I will be making revisions of my own lyrics again soon.
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