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No. 18 - Tyrolean Song - Greta and Girls
| Greta: | In a valley green, Towering hill between, With the Alps high above, I would gladly dwell as a Switzer belle, With the one I best love. In a rose-clad cot, what a happy lot, To repose free from care, For all grief is banned from that Alpine land, And melody is ev'rywhere. There's the plashing of the silver fountain. Ah! On its rippling way a down the mountain. Ah! There's the music too, of maiden laughter, On the lightest breezes borne, Echoing clear at first, then distant after, While far off sound the Alpine horn. Tra la! |
| Girls: | Tra la. |
| Greta: | Tra la! |
| Girls: | Tra la. |
| Greta: | (yodelling) Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! |
| Greta: | 'Mid the Alpine snows, Where so lovely grows Edelweiss, flow'ret rare, I would dwell with thee, never lonely be, Love can make winter fair. And for thee I'd wait at our cottage-gate, When the sun set in flame, For that song so light, Echoing from the height, As my love homeward to me came. There's the plashing of the silver fountain. Ah! On its rippling way a down the mountain. Ah! There's the music too, of maiden laughter, On the lightest breezes borne, Echoing clear at first, then distant after, While far off sound the Alpine horn. Tra la! |
| Girls: | Tra la. |
| Greta: | Tra la! |
| Girls: | Tra la. |
| Greta: | (yodelling) Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! |
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Page modified 14 March 2017