I'll plow the Martosi street, baby.

1. I will plow up, my baby, the street of Martosi, ; I will sow red-eyed wheat in it, ; I will grow pure red-eyed wheat in it, ; Next summer, my baby, we will harvest it in two. ; ; 2. In the fall, my baby, the black grapes will ripen, ; You are not, my baby, a true lover, ; Forgive me if I have ever taken, ; Against you, my baby, I have done wrong. ; ; 3. For whom are you sewing, my baby, that sling shawl, ; I am sewing it for you, so that you may be my lover, ; In the four corners, four sprigs of fragrant rosemary, ; In the middle, my baby, that I am your lover.