“What art thou doing, my Hildebrand dear,

There on the bench by the stove so near?”

Hallelujah.

“What art thou doing, my Hildebrand dear, There on the bench by the stove so near?” Hallelujah.

And then the peasant sang from his basket,

“All singing I ever shall hate from this day,

And here in this basket no longer I’ll stay.”

Hallelujah.