Faithful little Rose

There was a hunter bold and brave,

who knew where a beautiful little rose bloom'd,

he valued that rose dearer than lands or gold;

in his heart she became so light and lovely,

when he saw Faithful little Rose,

trala, trala, trala!

When he saw Faithful little Rose!

And when the evening dew was on the meadow,

then, the hunter came to the sweet bride;

he came up to play and sing,

with sweet song and ringing horn,

when he saw Faithful little Rose,

trala, trala, trala!

When he saw Faithful little Rose!

"Faithful little Rose, my little Rose, can you hear my song,

where-in only your name lives and blooms?

The bridal year is past,

Soon I'll lead Faithful little Rose to the altar."

There, Faithful little Rose will say: "Yes!"

Trala, trala, trala!

And then he jumped from his horse,

and they sat together and talked and kissed,

and joked until near midnight

in quiet, joyful loving splendor,

Their hearts so near,

trala, trala, trala, so near!

The little star faded, in the morning light,

the hunter returns home from the sweet bride,

he hunts through forest and meadow,

now appears a stag on fleeting track,

so beautiful, as it still sees no one!

Trala, trala, trala!

And the stag from the high cliff

jumps blindly down the precipice,

and behind it falls down into the deep vault

the furious horse with it's rider;

none did see them again!

Trala, trala, trala!

And as weeps the dew in the evening,

so, Faithful little Rose awaits her lover,

and waits and hopes for sound of song,

for songs and sound of horn:

He did not a'wooing come!

Trala, trala, trala!

And as midnight-time came near,

Faithful little Rose still sadly in the bed watches,

she cried her eyes red:

"Does something yet await me in fear and need?

My dearest love, is not yet here!"

Trala, trala, trala!

And all at once she hears the horn call,

and it whispers to her quietly like ghostly song:

"Come, my little dear, trust in me,

the bed is made ready, come, rosy bride,

thy love is already waiting there!"

Trala, trala, trala!

Then, a shiver grips her so icy and cold,

and she feels the ghostly embrace;

and stealthily it sweeps through her trembling heart

how wedding-joy and death aches,

and trembling she whispers: "Yes!"

Trala, trala, trala!

Then, the blood chills in the beating breast,

then, the heart breaks in death's desire;

and the hunter leads the rosy bride home,

there above her is he whom she trusts,

Now is Faithful little Rose's wedding!

Trala, trala, trala!