I know of a house in the polder Hidden by flowers and bushes A ditch in front of it with a sidewalk attached to it And windows with red and white shutters I go there every year on holiday I feed the chickens there and milk the cows I mow and I sow a little bit And kiss Greetje in the clog shed Greetings, you are so beautiful Little Greetje from the polder Child of the low country Blonde hair and blue eyes Please give me your hand Little Greetje from the polder Now tell me quickly When the wheat is ripe Then you will be my wife Because Greetje has already promised me her heart But first the wheat had to be mown Then I asked her again but she shook her head Now the rye had to be sown first She didn't have time then because hay was being made then Then, if necessary, the spuds had to be harvested A cow became a mother so she had Greetje No time to get married, you know that Greetings, you are so beautiful Little Greetje from the polder Child of the low country Blonde hair and blue eyes Please give me your hand Little Greetje from the polder Now tell me quickly When the wheat is ripe Then you will be my wife I got angry and angry and went to her And would order her clearly That's neither haymaking nor the cow's fate Couldn't care less about me any longer I came to the ditch with a sidewalk attached to it And stood on the bridge in amazement I wasn't allowed in because, you know Greetje had a foot and mouth ulcer Greetings, you are so beautiful Little Greetje from the polder Now tell me quickly When the wheat is ripe Then you will be my wife