The silver horn hung in the sky,
And gentle May breezes blew.
Hans sat at the forest stream
And embraced his Grete.
The colourful bird-folk slept,
No eavesdropper was amongst them,
The old fir trees were deep in dreams,
Only the stream was awake,
And, laughing merrily, the waters sang:
"Hansel is fond of Gretel."

  After a little while the forest stream
Came flowing up to the Golden Star.
There, the tavernkeeper said with cunning guile:
"Hey, brooklet, welcome!"
And unabashedly immediately poured 
The stream's water into the wine keg.
Thus the recent news from the forest
Came to the ears of the thirsty ones.
Thereupon they murmered in the Golden Star:
"Hansel is fond of Gretel."

  Gretel wished Hansel a good night
And left him alone;
And since kissing makes one thirsty,
Hans took himself off to drink wine.
He sat at the foot of the tavern table
And drank in deep draughts;
The throng surged forward around him
With freshly-filled jugs,
They clinked their glasses and called loudly:
"A toast to Hansel and his fiancée!"