Three Weeks before Easter (Pennsylvania Dutch)

“Three Weeks before Easter” Sheet Music (pdf).
“Three Weeks before Easter” (Pennsylvania Dutch) Karaoke (midi with lyrics).
“Three Weeks before Easter” (English) Karaoke (midi with lyrics).

A Pennsylvania Dutch Folk Song.
A Song of the Tavern.


Drei Wochen ver Oschdren,
Do geht der Schnee weck;
Do heiert mei Schetzel,
Do hawwich en Dreck!

Die hab ich geliebet,
Was hawwich dervun,
Ball hawwich en Schetzel,
Ball hawwich zum Tschun!

Was helft mir mein Graasen,
Wann mei Sickel net schneidt?
Was helft mir mein Schetzel,
Wann’s bei mir net bleibt?

Bald graas ich mein Gaarden,
Bald graas ich am Rhein,
Ball hawwich en Schetzel,
Ball hawwich aa kein.

Drei Roosen im Gaarden,
Drei Veglin im Wald,
Der Summer iss lieblich,
Der Winder iss kalt.

En aldes Paar Oxen
Un en schwarzi brauni Kuh.
Das gibt mir mein Vodder
Wann ich heiraden duh.

So gibt er mir’s nicht,
So heiraaden sie aa nicht;
Oh, Bei, Bei, mein Schetzel,
Un saag es ihm’s nicht!

Hab Hawwern gedroschen
Hab Lilien geseet,
En manniches schee Meedel
Im Dans gedreht.

Im Wattshaus datt drowwen
Datt schteht einen Disch,
Noo rabblen die Glesser,
Noo drinken mir frisch!

’S waar aageneemt im Badalyen,
Datt geht es luschdich zu;
Noo dansen die Meedlen,
Noo glappere die Schuh!

Three weeks before Easter, the snow is all gone.
Then, my sweetheart gets married, and I’m all alone.

I loved her so truly; I do love her yet.
But an unfaithful sweetheart is all I did get.

What’s the use of mowing if my sickel won’t shear?
What’s the use of a sweetheart if she will not stay here?

Soon, I’ll mow in my garden; I’ll mow till I’m done.
Soon, I’ll have a sweetheart, and, soon, I’ll have none.

Three roses in the garden, three birds in the trees,
In summer, it’s lovely; in winter, you freeze.

An old team of oxen and a chocolate cow,
My father will give me if I marry right now.

If he doesn’t give them, I can’t marry you.
But I’ll stay with a sweetheart and not tell him who.

I’ve harvested my oats fields; my lentils I’ve sown.
I’ve swung on the dance floor many a girl of my own.

Up there in the tavern stands a table, I’m told,
Where the glasses are rattling as we drink ourselves cold.

It was fun at Battalion. We enjoyed ourselves fine.
Our girlfriends kept dancing, And the shoes kept the time.


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