[Verse 1]
Not so long ago our village
Had fair fame the country round
The church was full of folk on Sunday
When the steeple bell would sound
[Verse 2]
In the schoolroom children’s voices
Read their lessons true and clear
In the field the sickles glittered
And the scythe mowed down the ear
[Verse 3]
Now the church is mute and empty
Weeds within the schoolyard grow
No reaper cuts the whitened grain
To the woods no huntsmen go
[Verse 4]
Like a burned, abandoned homestead
Silently our village stands
The only bustle’s in the graveyard
It has work for every hand!
[Verse 5]
For the dead are carried out
To burials that never cease
The living pray in fear and trembling
‘‘To their souls, O Lord, give peace.’’
[Verse 6]
There’s hardly room for all the graves
Once each one its space could keep
Now they’re huddled all together
Like a flock of frightened sheep
[Verse 7]
If my springtime too is blighted
If the grave my lot must be
You whom I have loved so long
Whose love was always joy to me
[Verse 8]
Oh, come not near then to your Jenny
No last kiss on her pale lips lay
Watch, but watch you from afar off
When they bear her corpse away!
[Verse 9]
Then leave behind our stricken village!
Find yourself some place apart
Where these torments may be lightened
And there ease your weary heart
[Verse 10]
When the plague ends—then come visit
Where my poor dust found its rest
And Jenny will be true to Edmund
E’en in her place among the blest!