Till the dark night dies in the arms of day,

When He kisses my lamb awake to play.

Sleep! sleep! sleep! my baby, sleep.

An Austrian sings these rapturings.

But why; why do the children cry,

As the husband true bids a brave good-by?

O why do the children and women weep

As the war-woes over their gladness creep?

O this red! red! red!

O this blood I have shed