Oh ! o’er there, O rustic lass
Lets hear you sing your song
Reaping the harvest all by yourself
Snuggling to lambs that are sleeping long.
Village bangle sellers at market place
Colourful bangles red and green
Tinkling as worn by the lasses again
When at the sunset they are seen.
Valleys and hills yonder there
A rainbow glistening after the rain
The cattle grazing over the meadows
And the shepherd leading the way again.
The womenfolk light the bright lanterns
In the little huts made of mud and clay
The sounds of vessels tinkling softly
As they await their menfolk at the end of the day
As the horses settle down on a meal of hay
And the dusk descends on the hill
The merry farmers that are homeward bound
And the shimmering lake standing still.