Clara

Vicious is the pillage now in her town,
Had yellow hair when she was German.
See her brush it in the mornings,
She was the daughter of a bowman.

The father died when she was nineteen,
A tear traveled from her eye to earth.
Clara slept in despair and deep silence,
She cried beneath the shadow of a church.

The young man she met on a warm evening
Was true enough for her to believe
Fell in love she changed her faith,
But he tossed her heart to the spring.

A ship came one day to sail her afar,
Her blue eyes and the sea were met.
Journied through Lübeck to west of France,
Left her mother behind and she regrets.

A captain kissed her finger with a ring,
She swayed through the wind like a leaf,
Clara dressed in white with a long veil,
Wasn't in love but in time she did.

Her house was big, warm and cozy,
She thought of her mother every winter,
She dyed her hair to raven black,
Hometown felt further and further.

Just a girl she was, Clara of beauty,
Now she's a mother with three girls
They have her hair but not the faith,
Each and everyday her will grows.