“Cuckoo, cuckoo,” sang the cuckoo
⁠In the little grove,
⁠Ah, in the little grove.
In her own home wept my loved one
⁠In her lonely room,
⁠Ah, in her lonely room.

“Why are you weeping, lamenting—
⁠Surely you are mine,
⁠Ah, surely you are mine.
When the cuckoo cries at Christmas
⁠Three times you are mine,
⁠Ah, three times you are mine.”

“How can I keep from lamenting—
⁠When you are not mine,
⁠Ah, when you are not mine.
For the cuckoo ne’er at Christmas
⁠Lets his voice be heard,
⁠Ah, lets his voice be heard.”