Der arme Peter wankt vorbei

Poor Peter, he goes stumbling by
As pale as lead, ashamed and shy.
And all the people stand and stare
Whenever Peter passes there.

The girls all whisper, " Give him room,
He must have risen from the tomb. "
Ah no, my dears, your anguish save;
He's only going to his grave.

He's lost his love; his future's dim
And so the grave's the place for him.
For there his tortured spirit may
Await in peace the Judgment Day.