Oh cease, grave-diggers, my feelings you shock,
I forbade you to dig, you have dug to the rock;
I bade you dig little, you have dug so deep!
When his father's not here, will you lay him to sleep?
Then a poor woman who has lately buried a young daughter begins to sing:
Oh bride! on the roofs of heaven,
Come now and look over the wall:
Oh let your sad mother but see you,
Oh let her not vainly call!
Hasten, her heart is breaking,
Let her your smile behold;
The mother is sadly weeping,
The maiden is still and cold.
The Druzes believe that millions of Druzes live in China and that China is a kind of heaven. So another woman sings:
Yullah, now my lady, happy is your state!
Happy China's people, when you reached the gate!
Lady, you are passing,
To the palace bright,
All the stars surpassing,
On the brow of night!
And now the body is taken to be buried, and the women return to the house, where the wailing is kept up for days and weeks. They have many other funeral songs, of which I will give two in conclusion:
Ye Druzes, gird on your swords,
A great one is dead to-day;
The Arabs came down upon us,
They thought us in battle array,
But they wept when they found us mourning,
For our leader has gone away!
The next is the lament of the mother over her dead son:
The sun is set, the tents are rolled,
Happy the mother whose lambs are in fold;
But one who death's dark sorrow knew,
Let her go to the Nile of indigo blue,
And dye her robes a mourning hue!