The Song of the Visits
I liked a girl too much, too much.
She asked me to come and see her sometime.
So I went to see her upon a Monday—
I did not find my girl at home.
She was in the garden weeding barwēnok.
“Ah ha!” I thought, “she is not at home,
My little sweetheart is not at home.”
When I went to see her upon the Tuesday
I did not find my girl at home.
She was clearing the pea-vines in the garden;
“Ah ha!” I thought, “she is not at home!
Naidorozcha Devchina66 is not at home.”
When I came to see her upon the Wednesday
I did not find my girl at home.
She was out in the pastures herding cattle.
“Ah ha!” I thought, “she is not at home,
My sweet little rose is not at home!”
When I came to see her upon the Thursday
I did not find my girl at home.
So I thought I was lost—I would not get her.
When I came to see her upon the Friday
She was weeding still in the garden bed.
“Ah ha!” I thought, “she is not at home,
My rosy cheeks is not at home.”
Saturday came and found me calling.
When the door was opened they told me this:
“She finishes all her work of cleaning.”
And I thought, “May I never see her again!”
When I came to see her upon the Sunday
I got her that time, you may be sure.
She was sitting there at the dinner table.
I said, “I have you, Naidorozcha Devchina,
The first time for you, the last for me!”