There was a hunter bold and brave,
   who knew where a beautiful little rose bloom'd,
   he valued that rose dearer than lands or gold;
   in his heart she became so light and lovely,
   when he saw Faithful little Rose,
   trala, trala, trala!
   When he saw Faithful little Rose!
 
 And when the evening dew was on the meadow,
 then, the hunter came to the sweet bride;
 he came up to play and sing,
 with sweet song and ringing horn,
 when he saw Faithful little Rose,
 trala, trala, trala!
 When he saw Faithful little Rose!
 
  "Faithful little Rose, my little Rose, can you hear my song,
  where-in only your name lives and blooms?
  The bridal year is past,
  Soon I'll lead Faithful little Rose to the altar."
  There, Faithful little Rose will say: "Yes!"
  Trala, trala, trala!
  
  And then he jumped from his horse,
  and they sat together and talked and kissed,
  and joked until near midnight
  in quiet, joyful loving splendor,
  Their hearts so near,
  trala, trala, trala, so near!
 
  The little star faded, in the morning light,
  the hunter returns home from the sweet bride,
  he hunts through forest and meadow,
  now appears a stag on fleeting track,
  so beautiful, as it still sees no one! 
  Trala, trala, trala!
 
  And the stag from the high cliff
  jumps blindly down the precipice,
  and behind it falls down into the deep vault
  the furious horse with it's rider;
  none did see them again!
  Trala, trala, trala!
 
  And as weeps the dew in the evening,
  so, Faithful little Rose awaits her lover,
  and waits and hopes for sound of song,
  for songs and sound of horn:
  He did not a'wooing come!
  Trala, trala, trala!
 
  And as midnight-time came near,
  Faithful little Rose still sadly in the bed watches,
  she cried her eyes red:
  "Does something yet await me in fear and need?
  My dearest love, is not yet here!"
  Trala, trala, trala!
 
  And all at once she hears the horn call,
  and it whispers to her quietly like ghostly song:
  "Come, my little dear, trust in me,
  the bed is made ready, come, rosy bride,
  thy love is already waiting there!"
  Trala, trala, trala!
 
  Then, a shiver grips her so icy and cold,
  and she feels the ghostly embrace;
  and stealthily it sweeps through her trembling heart
  how wedding-joy and death aches,
  and trembling she whispers: "Yes!"
  Trala, trala, trala!
 
  Then, the blood chills in the beating breast,
  then, the heart breaks in death's desire;
  and the hunter leads the rosy bride home,
  there above her is he whom she trusts,
  Now is Faithful little Rose's wedding!
  Trala, trala, trala!

Lord Oluf rides late and far
to summon his wedding guests.
Elves are dancing on a green bank,
and the Erlking's daughter offers him her hand.
"Welcome, Lord Oluf, come dance with me
and I will give you two golden spurs."

"I cannot dance, I do not wish to dance -
for tomorrow is my wedding-day."
"Come closer, Lord Oluf, come dance with me,
and I will give you a shirt of silk,
a shirt of silk so white and fine -
my mother bleached it with moonbeams!"

"I may not dance, I do not wish to dance -
for tomorrow is my wedding-day."
"Come closer, Lord Oluf, come dance with me
and I will give you a heap of gold."
"A heap of gold I would gladly take,
but I cannot and should not dance with you."

"If you will not dance with me, Lord Oluf,
then plague and sickness will follow you!"
She dealt him a blow to the heart,
and all his life he had never felt such pain.
Then she heaved him up upon his horse:
"Ride home to your worthy lady then!"

And when he came to the door to his house,
his mother, trembling, stood before him.
"Tell me, my son, and tell me true,
Why are you so pale and sick?"
"And should I not be pale and sick?
I was in the Erlking's realm."

"Tell me, my son, so dear,
What should I tell your bride?"
"Tell her that I rode to the wood just now,
To test my horse and hound."
At early morning when day had hardly dawned,
his bride arrived with the wedding crowd.

They poured mead and wine:
"Where is Lord Oluf, my bridegroom?"
"Lord Oluf rode to the wood just now,
To test his horse and hound."
The bride lifted up the cloth scarlet red,
And there lay Lord Oluf: he was dead.

"Dear Mother, the wind and rain howls tonight," -
"It is the first of May, my child..." 

"Dear Mother, there's thunder over the Brocken." -
"Dear child, there are witches up there."

"Dear Mother, I don't want to see any witches." -
"Dear Child, they are seen often enough."

"Dear Mother, but even in town?" -
"They're even closer, my child." 

"Dear Mother, how do they fly up to the mountain?" -
"Dear Child, on the smoke from glowing flax."

"Dear Mother, how do they ride to their gatherings?" -
"Dear Child, they ride on broomsticks."

"Dear Mother, yesterday I saw many brooms in the village." -
"Here are also many witches on the Brocken."

"Dear Mother, the chimney was smoking yesterday." -
"Dear Child, someone needed to burn flax."

"Dear Mother, last night your broom was missing." -
"Dear Child, it was over the Blocksberg."

"Dear Mother, your bed was empty last night." -
"Your Mother was awake over the Blocksberg."