I Keep Saying that I'm Leaving

I Keep Saying that I'm Leaving

Well, I keep saying that I'm leaving, I'm leaving, I'm leaving...
I'm going to get the all the wood
To get all the branches down from the tree top.
And the young girls gather around
Asking me where I am going to.
I tell them: “To Câmpulung“,
They ask me to come back this night,
But I tell them (I come back) next spring,
Bringing them a bouquet of violas.
When I put my foot in the stirrup iron
Seven young girls fainted, oh,
I put my other foot in the stirrup iron,
And all the girls fainted, oh, oh, oh-oh-oh!

Listen up!
My short and fatty sweetheart,
I'd like to turn you into a scythe's grip
To mow the grass with you in daytime
And to love you so well during the night.
To play with your tits
Until stars get cold, oh!

And to place your tit around my hand
Like the scythe in well-grown grass, oh,
To play with your tit under your shirt
Like the scythe in the good grass-hey.
(People from Dăbuleni* village say:)
To play with your tits
As if they were watermelons.
To take your tit's nipple in my mouth
And squeeze it like a peanut, oh!

Let May come again
So that I meet my sweetheart in heaven again.
But heaven's gate is closed
With a dry thorn lock.
And when I went to hell,
I took a look through the bars
And saw my sweethearts
And what the devils had made them do:
They had them plough the fields,
Plough and stir the land,
And had turned one of them into a fence strut.
Sing now, cuckoo!
May your tongue drop in a bowl filled with milk!
So that I can give it to my sweetheart to eat it.