outside the rooster’s on his night perch
and the morning sun’s ready for his repast
i look at you sweet love in your beauteous sleep
and desire to hear your sweet and wondrous words
But my purse is light and the hearth is cold
the merchant’s kitchen is laden as his purse
his garden bears tempestuous fruits all year round
naught a fur blanket to cover you 'cept this sheet
but my heart is warm and see his harem’s brimmed
will you not look back and consider my honest plea
look my love look back just once even in jest
see this torn heart beneath this tattered attire
while that palanquin carries you to his threshold
i take my goats to the mountain pasture once again
to sing this lonesome song to the wilderness
