Behold our shadow, look, Movitz mon frere,
How it's encompassed by darkness,
How gold and velvet, in the shovel, there,
shifts to gravel and tatters.
Charon waves from his rushing river,
as does then, three times, the grave digger,
no-more will you clasp your beloved Grape.
Therefore, Movitz, come help me lever
a headstone for our sister's grave!
So went to rest, from carousing and brawls,
Troublemaker Lofberg, your wife.
There, to the grass, long necked and gaunt,
Is yet where you turn your eye.
She was taken from Dantobommen today,
And with her, all the parties so gay.
Who shall now command the bottle?
Thirsty was she and athirst am I;
We are thirsty, all of us.
