They say the bridegroom’s coming,
they say he’ll not be long;
the bride’s inside and waiting,
while the singers chant their song.
The guests have gone into the house,
they’ve started on the wine;
the party pies are getting cold,
but everything is fine.
We know the men will be here soon,
they’re just a little late;
Our lamps will keep us company
while we sit around and wait.
We maidens of the neighbourhood
bring lamps with which we’ll guide,
and dance the bridegroom to the feast;
then we’ll follow him inside.
Our lanterns are our entrée cards,
our dancing is our present;
we help to make the party swing
with movements incandescent
I’m feeling somewhat weary, now,
I might just rest my eyes.
I’m sure we’ll hear the cymbals
and the drums when he arrives.
. . . . . .
What’s that, you say he’s coming?
I thought I heard a shout!
Where did I put that lantern;
Oh damn, it’s nearly out!
Where are my friends with extra jars?
Of course you can spare some!
Go find a shop – you’re joking!
I might just as well go home!
Quite so, I should have brought spare oil;
right foolish I have been.
You think you’re very clever,
I think you’re very mean.
. . . . . .
Knock, knock!
Who’s there?
Merry.
Merry who?
Merry-maker!
Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.
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