Lasarettvisan - Maritza Horn

I en sal p lasarettet

Dr de vita sngar str

Lg en liten brstsjuk flicka

Blek och trd med lockigt hr

Allas hjrtan vann den lilla

Dr hon lg s mild och god

Bar sin smrta utan klagan

Med ett barnsligt tlamod

S en dag hon frgade lkaren

Som vid hennes sida stor

Fr jag komma hem till psken

Till min egen lilla mor

Lkaren svara d den lilla

Nej mitt barn det fr du ej

Men till pingsten kan det hnda

Du fr komma hem till mor

Pingsten kom med grna bjrkar

Blomsterkldd str mark och ng

Men den lilla sjuka flickan

Lg dr stndigt I sin sng

S p nytt hon frgade lkaren

Som vid hennes sida str

Fr jag komma hem till hsten

Till min egen lilla mor

Lkaren svarade ej den lilla

Men strk sakta hennes hr

Och med trar I sitt ga

Vnder han sig om och gr

Nu hon slumrar uti mullen

Slumrar stt I snvit skrud

Frn sin tligt burna vntan

Har hon farit upp till gud

In a hall at the hospital

Dr de vita sngar str

Lay a little breast-sick girl

Pale and thread with curly hair

Everyone's heart won the little one

There she lay so gentle and kind

Carried his pain without complaint

With a childish tlamod

Then one day she asked the doctor

Which by her side great

Before I get home for Easter

To my own little mother

The doctor answers the little one

No, my child, you will not

But for Pentecost it can happen

You have to come home to mother

Pentecost came with green birches

Flower-clad str ground and ng

But the little sick girl

Lie there constantly in your bed

Then again she asked the doctor

As by her side str

Before I come home for the fall

To my own little mother

The doctor did not answer the little one

But slowly her hair

And with you I trot his ga

He turns around and leaves

Now she is dozing off in the dust

Snooze stt In snowy attire

From his tligt borne vntan

Has she ascended to god