The Lark.

         A maid was weeding hemp
         In her master's garden,
         A lark asks her
         Why she is so sad?
         
         How can I be glad,
         Little lark?
         They have taken away my love
         To a stone tower.
         
         O that I had a pen,
         I would have written a letter,-
         Thou, dear little lark,
         Wouldst have flown with it.
         
         I have no pen, no paper,
         Or I would have written a letter.
         Thou, dear little lark,
         Wouldst have flown with it.
         
         I have no pen, no paper,
         Or I would have written a letter.
         Salute my love, then, with a song,
         And tell him that I die of grief.