Weep, my maiden, weep and cry,
To your lover say farewell.
To the only one you love—
He who in your heart doth dwell.
Drafted in the warrior band,
Far away he’ll have to serve.
May be, in the living land,
You will see his face no more.
Oh, that I were in my grave,
Deep beneath the emerald grass,
O’er my mound a heavy cross,
Pressing my poor head, alas!
Then two eyes would only weep,
Where four now are bathed in tears;
Then two eyes would only burn
With the scalding, bitter tears.