Where are you coming from my son Jacques
Where are you coming from tonight?
I come from schools, my mother
From the schools of Paris
I hear the serene song
Of the pretty nightingale

You lied there, my lad
You come back from seeing your sweetheart
I would like to see her dead and
Have her heart here
I hear the serene song
Of the pretty nightingale

What would you give my mother if
I made her die?
I would give a white shirt
Money for your pleasure
I hear the serene song
Of the pretty nightingale

He went to see his beauty
As soon as the sun rose, arriving at her door
He heard midnight strike
I hear the serene song
Of the pretty nightingale

He takes her by her white hand
To the garden he took her
He took his clear sword
Cut off her little finger
I hear the serene song
Of the pretty nightingale

Ah! My God what suffering
I endure this night
You will suffer many more before
The night is over
I hear the serene song
Of the pretty nightingale

He lays her on the thorn, oh
Which seeds without blooming
He took the heart from her belly
In his shirt he put it
I hear the serene song
Of the pretty nightingale

Here, my cruel mother
Here is the heart of my sweetheart
You lied through your mouth
It's the heart of a sheep
I hear the serene song
Of the pretty nightingale

Oh! Mountains upon mountains
Crush on my body
I made my mistress die
I deserve only death
I hear the serene song
Of the pretty nightingale

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