Five lilies pulled King Olaf,
And climbed the chamber stair;
"These lilies for my Thyri be,
At her white throat to wear."

The tears were in Queen Thyri's eyes,
When he came through the door;
She took the blossoms that he brought,
And flung them on the floor.

"I weep, O King, for my lost lands;
My meadows by the sea;
The steepled streets of that old town,
Where I was wont to be!

"And is it lands or lilies, King,
That be more fair to see?
Go forth and battle with my kin,
And get them back for me."

"Give me one kiss from thy red mouth,"
Said Olaf, Norway's king;
"And all my ships shall sail away,
Thy lost lands back to bring."

Oh, then she kissed him! Out he strode,
Loud clanged the heavy door.
The five white lilies withered there,
Upon the chamber floor.