For ages it seems a bloody track
 has been drawn through this house
 my mother was its only lover,
 the beautiful Lucy Walters.
 
 It was evening, the wheat wav'd in the breeze
 they kissed beneath the linden
 a lark called and a hunter's-horn.
 I am a child of sin.
 
 My mother has often told me 
 of that evening's sun, 
 its lips said: "I have fallen."
 Its eyes laughed at the bliss.
 
 A child of the sin, a Stuart-child, 
 shines like a hatchet from afar.
 The way, that all have stridden, 
 I will also walk.
 
 The life loved and the crown kissed
 and the women the heart given 
 and the last kiss on the black framework 
 thus is the life of a Stuart!

It is certain in God's wisdom
that from our dearest loved one
we must part,
even if there is nothing in the world
that falls, oh! so bitterly on the heart
as such parting, yes parting.

As to you is given a small bud,
thus put it into a tumbler,
but know this, yes know it!,
a little rose that blooms tomorrow,
the following night will see it wither,
know that, yes know it.

And as God has given you a devotion
and you hold that love quite dearly,
as your own!
It will be about eight boards, then,
you soon will put her in!,
weep then, yes weep!

Now, you must also understand me properly,
yes, understand!
If people do thus part, then,
they say: we'll see each other again, 
yes, again.