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.