The grass that the scythe cuts grows old
Song
The grass that the scythe cuts becomes barren, ; The girl whose baby leaves her becomes barren. ; I too become barren, I know how sick I am, ; My baby dies, I will soon recover. ; ; May God strike that mother, ; Who raises her daughter to be a rich young man. ; Because the rich young man hits, beats, kicks her, ; The poor young man hugs and kisses her.