"Now rede me, mother," the merman cried,
"How Marsk Stig's daughter may be my bride."
She made him of water a noble steed,
Of sands a saddle, and reins of reed.
To a young knight chang'd she then her son,
And to Mary's church at speed he's gone.
To the church's ring his steed he bound,
And three times backward the church pac'd round.
When in he strode so proud and tall
Away the images turned them all.
The priest was standing with open book:
"O who is yon knight of stately look?"
Then laughed the maiden within her sleeve:
"If he were my husband I should not grieve."
He step'd over benches one and two:
"O Marsk Stig's daughter I doat on you."
He stepped over benches three and four:
"Give me thy troth I thee implore."
She gave him her hand with an air so free:
"Here take thy troth, I will go with thee."
A bridal train from church they go,
They danc'd so lightly and free from woe.
And when they came to the salt sea strand,
The little boats turn'd away from the land.
"Now Marsk Stig's daughter hold my steed,
To cross the water a boat we need."
To a little boat he chang'd his steed,
And over the waves away they speed.
And when in the midst of the sound they were,
Dissolv'd the boat into water fair.
Up the land far was heard the cry
Of Marsk Stig's maid in her agony.
Now will I caution each maiden bright,
To dance not away with an unknown knight.