I can see Martina as a child of three

In the sad seclusion of her nursery

Go outside, Martina, go outside and play

Never speak, Martina, put your toys away

So her days were loveless and her nights the same

When she cried for someone, no one ever came

Is it any wonder that her eyes grew cold?

That she loved nobody and her young heart grew old

All the children crying from the age of three

Grow to be Martina's and me