Early one morning A tender maiden went out To walk in the flowery garden, A cheerful healthy maiden; She went to pluck some flowers, To wind a garland Of silver and gold.
Up crept to her A seedy frightful man, As sallow as could be, No rags to cover him. He had no flesh, nor blood, nor hair, That hadn't withered away, Even sinew and gristle had gone.
Oh death, let me be, Take any of the servants! It won't be to your disadvantage. If my father finds me alive and well; I'm his only daughter, He wouldn't give me away Even be it for a fortune.
He took her by the waist As tender as she was, being deaf to any of her pleas, And threw her into the gras, And when he touched her heart, The tender maiden lay there In biting fear and pain.