Sir Asbiorn Snare

The King and Sir Asbiorn Snare sat,
All under the greenwood tree
Were drinking their wine with friendly chat;
And summer smiled over the lea.

With mead and with wine they fill their glass,
All under etc.
And hours in chatting of Christel pass.
And summer etc,

"Now, King of the Danes, my asking hear;
"Give me little Christel, your daughter dear."

"The maid is but ten years old or less,
"And cannot yet make your gala dress."

"Fair Christel is young, may learn to sew,
"Do you but her hand on me bestow."

Sir Asbiorn Snare to Rib hies,
And silk for a habit and sindal buys.

On silk and sindal his gold he spends.
And all to the youthful maiden sends.

So soon as Christel had seen her task,
She ran to her nurse her rede to ask.

"O hear me, my nurse, your counsel say;
"This cloth has been sent me homo today."

"To render it back methinks were best,
"For, Christel, be sure 'twas sent in jest."

Fair Christel alone to her chamber paced.
And cut the cloth to her own good taste.

She seated herself on a working chair,
And broider'd it all with skill and care.

Fair Christel she worked the jacket's side
With fishes, that in the streamlet glide.

She worked on the shoulder fifteen knights,
With swords in their hands all hack'd in fights.

She work'd the sleeve with a flowery ring,
And maidens therein, who dance and sing.

She sew'd on his breast a scene of bliss,
A knight to his lady gives a kiss.

"And now that at last my task is done,
"Who is there that home with this will run?"

Then up little Christers page and spake;
"'Tis I your work to the knight will take/'

Sir Asbiorn gazed at the work he brought,
"God bless the fingers that this have wrought."

"But how," said the page, "Sir Asbiorn, say,
"Will you the maiden, who worked it, pay?"

"What other reward should be her right,
"Than me for her husband, so brave a knight."

The page he home to his mistress flew;
"The knight now makes his demand for you."

"Go bid him across the brook to sail,
"He catches not me with an idle tale.

"Go bid him the stream himself to cross,
All under the greenwood tree
"He'll make me not mourn ray honour's loss."
The summer smiles over the lea.