Alle Tage Ist Kein Sonntag

Every day is not Sunday,
Every day there is no wine,
But you should be very dear to me every day.
And when I am once dead,
You should think of me,
Also in the evening before you fall asleep,
But you must not cry.
Also in the evening before you fall asleep,
But you must not cry.

And when it gets dark, gray hair and gray mind,
Let it shine, let it shine,
How happy I am then.
And when I am once dead,
You should think of me,
Also in the evening before you fall asleep,
But you must not cry.
Also in the evening before you fall asleep,
But you must not cry.

Every day is not Sunday,
Every day there is no wine.