Sunday on the Ammerwiese,
Liese is carefully guarding the geese
Jacob comes running,
holds a sickle in his hand
He pushes it every now and then
to Lieschen Skirt and bodice
He wants to taste her, wants to force her
and the boy will sing to it
Dear Liese, leave the geese,
I want to taste your skin
The scythe is rusty with blood,
Aren’t you being kind to me
Jacob can lick from Lieschen
and it will taste like pears
Little hairs will stand up,
hurry to the wheat field
Well hidden in the flood of gold,
he infected Liese
Hold her tightly in his arms until the evening
and sang to the child
Love Liese, leave the geese,
I want to taste your skin
The scythe is rusty with blood,
Aren't you kind to me
Dear Liese, leave the geese,
I want to taste your skin
The scythe is rusty with blood,
Aren't you kind to me

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