Bells in the front hall ringing,
When twilight is falling;
"Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud,"
They are crying and calling.

Where is Maud? In the field,
And I, who else, am with her;
Gathering leeks and turnips - 
Myriads grow together.

Bells in our hall rang,
Ringing through the garretts;
Maud is here, here, here,
In among the carrots.

I pinched her rosy cheek,
She smacked my face in anger:
Maud is nearly seventy,
I did not like to slang her.

I know the way she went
Back with her cheeks so ruddy;
For her feet have touched the staircase
And left the carpets muddy.