Liese

Sunday on the meadow
Watching geese, Liese, so mellow
Here comes Jacob in a rush
With his sickle, ready to crush
He slides it here and there
Under Liese's skirt, without a care
He wants to taste her, wants to force
And the boy will sing, of course

Love, Liese, let go of the geese
I want to taste your skin with ease
The scythe is rusty with blood, you see
If you're not kind, then flee

Jacob may lick Liese's skin
And she'll taste like a pear, so thin
Her little hairs standing tall
They rush to the wheat field, all
Hidden in the golden flood
He has ignited Liese's blood
He holds her tight until nightfall
And sings into the child, so small

Love, Liese, let go of the geese
I want to taste your skin with ease
The scythe is rusty with blood, you see
If you're not kind, then flee

Love, Liese, let go of the geese
I want to taste your skin with ease
The scythe is rusty with blood, you see
If you're not kind, then flee