veyone morning
One morning in spring,
to hear the birds a-whistling,
Then I'll get seen,
I met a fair maiden,
who sweetly sings,
I'm going to be married next Monday morning.
How old are you,
my fair young babe,
Here in this valley,
this valley so green,
How old are you,
my fair young babe,
I'm going to be sixteen next Monday morning,
But sixteen years old is too young for a man,
So take my advice, five years longer to tarry,
For marriage brings troubles and sorrow,
So
love your wedding for Monday morning.
You talk like a madman,
a man with no skin,
Three years I've been waiting
against my own will,
And now I'm determined to have my own way,
And I'm going to be married next Monday,
Next Monday night, when I go to my bed,
And I turn around to the man that I wed,
Around his middle,
my two arms I will fling,
And I wish to my soul it was Monday morning.
He's from Istanbul,
maybe he's the only one from Istanbul with these two stones,
With his majesty,
we said,
you tell us about yourself,
He said, I'm Ahmet Kurtaran,
I'm studying dentistry in Ağacetepe,
I'm going to be a dentist,
He's a folk singer like these,
born in Spain,
and he's busy with American folk.
Ahmet is also busy with folk of the islands between these two,
and with a little known instrument in Turkey,
called banjo,
and he's researching their folk.
Look how he's researching.