Sick in Ribe Dagmar’s lying,
Soon she’ll be in Ringsted’s wall;
All the Dames in Denmark dwelling
Unto her she bids them call.

“Fetch me four, fetch five, I pray ye,
Fetch me those for wisdom famed;
Fetch Sir Carl of Haves’ sister,
Little Kirstine is she named.

“Fetch the old, and fetch the youthful,
Fetch the learned unto me;
Fetch the lovely little Kirstine,
Worthy all respect is she.

“Canst thou read and write, my darling?
Canst thou ease the pains I bear?
Thou shalt ride upon my coursers,
And the ruddy scarlet wear.”

“Could I read and write, my lady,
Blythely I would do the same;
Thy pains are than iron harder,
’Tis with grief I that proclaim.”

’Twas the lovely little Kirstine,
Took the book and read a space—
“Ah, thy pains than steel are harder,
God Almighty help thy case!”