The rain falls in a few small drops,

Gyuri Bandi beside the gallows cries,

Beyond Szeged the woodman chops

The tree, from which the croaking raven flies.

Yet Gyuri Bandi naught has done

But twist his kerchief to a solid cord,

And knot it round his wife's neck bone,

To deck a tree for her sovereign lord.

His shirt and kilt he'd bade her lave,

That he might ride to his captain's abode.—

Then he bridled his steed so brave,

And away to his rose's bower he rode.

"Ah, mother dear, I have sinned a sin,

I've killed my wife with my love to go."—

Then Gyuri Bandi drank at the inn,

And slept in the cloak of Kasa his foe.

Gyuri Bandi was bound with chains,

From the judge's mouth his doom was told,

The gallows tree in winds and rains

Dandles and rocks him, alone and cold.

Gyuri Bandi had never thought

The wind would rock him on the gallows tree,

Even Kasa himself, whose blood he'd sought,

Was dismal at heart the sad sight to see.