The wreath

"Mother, help me, your poor daughter,

Look at what some boy has done:

He's woven a wreath of roses,

which he told me to wear!"

""Ah, don't be frightened by that;

it can certainly be helped!

Just remove the wreath from your hair,

and the boy: forget him!""

"The wreath has thorns, o Mother,

And they're holding tightly to my hair!

The boy spoke some words, Mother,

and I keep thinking of them!"