The day was beautiful and not cold at all;
a peasant girl goes into the woods.
She's met by the shepherd boy,
who says: "Now, lass, where art thou going?"
"Into the woods," she says, "because it's so beautiful a day;
I'll pick violets there."
"May I help you?" the boy asks.
"For all I care," she says, "it's all right with me."
As they walk beneath each other,
the shepherd boy takes her by the hand
and says: "For some time now I enjoy thy sight;
now, say, lass, wouldst thou like to be my shepherdess?
Thou'll get a hut and cattle enough,
and on top of all that thoul'll get me myself."
The lass cast down her eyes,
and the boy didn't say a word either.
But kiss they did, as it's customary being in love,
kisses are a language everyone understands.
Three days after the holy Easter
their marriage took place,
and he as husband led his wife to the dance,
on her hair a wreath of march violets.
Two years hadn't gone by yet,
and it was three of them that picked the violets,
and after twelve or thirteen years more
the result was a whole bunch of shepherds.
Now the old ones stay at home
and send their offspring to pick the violets.