As we goatherds trudge along
O'er the mountain bleak and brown,
Merrily we troll the song
Till we reach the distant town.

With scrip and wine that sparkling smiles,
The dreary journey each beguiles;
Through cold and heat, through sun, through snow,
We sing to market as we go.

And each, a female by his side
(Wedded wife or wished-for bride),
Cheerily descends the dale,
Whispering soft a true-love tale.

Blest be every faithful pair!
May no rigid sires control
In the bosoms of the fair
The pure emotions of the soul!