Oh! pretty Teresa with golden soft hair;
whilst the hints of dried red rose disappeared in flair,
The bay side lavenders watched the beauty
of thy tears, falling into the dark blue sea,
they knew well as to why you weep.
the tears drop by drop slip from your soul,
timid, slip, flow, break, touch and drowned.
you sit by the warmest grave as night sits by
so weakly does the stars shine
Oh! little Teresa with golden soft hair;
whilst the hints of dried red rose disappeared in flair,
the soul of your mother stands here, remember I
the day you were born likewise the days you did grow
dear, feelings swing like seasons indeed
happy before sad or sad before happy.