La, la, la, la, la, la, laHeavy are the steps, heavy are the steps that take youEvery night, every night on the hillYou had a wife and a sonWho are gone nowAnd they don't come backYou don't have an end, old womanThe joy has marked youAs if from some useless workIn the depths of the worldThe old woman is cryingShe wants to drink and danceThe old woman is cryingShe wants to drink and danceThe old woman is cryingShe wants to drink and danceThe old woman is cryingThe old woman is cryingThe old woman is cryingThe old woman is cryingShe wants to drink and danceShe wants to drink and danceShe wants to drink and danceThe old woman is cryingThe old woman is cryingAnd when dawn comes, the corner finds you on the hilland when dawn comes, the corner finds you on the hillYou don't have an end, BarbaliaYou are the sign of joyYou are the sign of joyLike a bird's nestin the depths of the GyrathiaIn the desolate BarbaliaIt wants to drink and to danceIn the desolate BarbaliaIt wants to drink and to dance