Szécsénykovácsi

We have reaped the wheat of our Lord.

Song

Alas, we have reaped the wheat of our lord; We have drunk his good blessing; We hang our sickles on the nail; Alas, we will not reap this year. Read More

1. Rain falls on the cabbage leaves, ; My lover won't let me in for the evening, ; If he won't let me in, I'll knock on his glass door, ; I'll show him, I'll go to him myself. ; ; 2. My little gray horse jumped out of the bridle, ; My lover pushed me out of bed, ; You see, mother... Read More