And sat around our board;
And now the plants we've rear'd

High o'er our heads have soar'd!

How fair and pleasant looks,

On yonder beauteous spot,
Embraced by poplar-brooks,

The newly-finish'd cot!
Who is it there that sits

In that glad home above?
Is't not our darling Fritz

With his own darling love?

Beside yon precipice,

Whence pent-up waters steal,
And leaving the abyss,

Fall foaming through the wheel,
Though people often tell

Of millers' wives so fair,
Yet none can e'er excel

Our dearest daughter there!