Mother, dearest mother,
Hearken unto me,
Think not that another
Draws my heart from thee.
Though each day I know him
Brighter shines the sun,
All the love I owe him
Robbeth thee of none.
His I seem to borrow,
All mine own is thine;
In my virgin sorrow
Help me, mother mine.

Were but I above him,
Simple were his task;
Doth my daughter love him?
That is all I ask.
Were but I above him,
Stranger though he be,
If my daughter love him,
Son he is to me!
Whether wife or maiden,
All my heart is thine;
Joy or sorrow laden,
Thou art daughter mine.

Whether wife or maiden
Thou art daughter/mother mine;
Joy or sorrow laden,
All my heart is thine!

Mother, my own dear mother,
Both of our lives entwine!
Couldst thou have wed another,
Had such a love been thine?
Oh, mother dear,
I love him so,
No doubt or fear
I seem to know!

Go on thy way with gladness!
Happily live the wife!
And leave to me the sadness,
And leave to me the strife.

Whether wife or maiden
Thou art daughter/mother mine;
Joy or sorrow laden,
All my heart is thine,
All my heart is thine,
All my heart is thine!