If you walk by the churchyard

ai solidom solidom 

upon my funeral day

tell the earth not to eat

the tresses in my hair.


Oh little doll if I would catch you here alone

oh little doll I'd give that little face a kiss,

oh little doll, oh little doll. 


The olive tree complains,

complains with some good reason,

that some folks pick her olives,

and cast her leaves to the ground.