On the green stubble-fields of autumn   I saw you, my sweetheart.   Nice were your feet in shoes   And wonderful your nimble gait.   Your hair the color of roses   And your ringlets tightly plaited   Alas that we're not married   Or on board ship sailing away      The boys around here are   Laughing and getting bold   And the people of the high straw?    Are making ? ? of my brown girl   If the king of spain would   Go abroad with his assembled men   I would flatten grass and rank grass   And I would be with my brown girl      Buying cows at the fair   If I were ? and my brown girl   Go and come first love   Until we go over to gaoth-bearra   Until we separate from each other   The tops of the branches and the swan   From the waves ?    That won't separate us   And it's only folly for you to put it ? ?       I wrote a letter   To my sweetheart and a sharp complaint   She sent it back to me   That her heart was inside me.   Compose the artsswannoble person ?    Finer than silk or bird feathers   Heavy is my sigh   When I think of being apart from her.      What I heard on sunday   As conversation among the women   That she was going to be married   To a young man from the place.   Sweetheart take my advice   And this autumn stay as you are   And don't tell anyone, my love,   That you are my love.