The cuckoo has fallen to its death
Edvard Moritz
The cuckoo has fallen to its death
On a green willow,
The cuckoo is dead! The cuckoo is dead!
Who should then the summer long
Help us pass the time?
Oh, that should be Mrs. Nightingale!
She sits on a green branch!
The small, fine nightingale,
The lovely, sweet nightingale!
She sings and springs, is always joyous,
When other birds are silent!
We await Mrs. Nightingale,
Who lives in a green glen,
And when the cuckoo call is at its end,
Then does she begin to sing!