My mother knows—I wonder how—
That I’m in love with Petrus now.
O the trouble he gives, etc.
My mother beat me, you must know,
Because I love my Petrus so.
Although, my mother, you strike me,
Petrus will soon be mine, you’ll see!
If my Petrus is not in sight
Before a wind I bow down quite.
But if his eyes in mine should glance