Svend Vonved bound his sword to his side,
He fain will battle with knights of pride;
So fierce and strange was his whole array,
No mortal ventur'd to cross his way.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

His helm was blinking against the sun,
His spurs were clinking his heels upon, . . .
His horse was springing, with bridle ringing,
While sat the warrior wildly singing.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

He rode a day, he rode for three,
No town nor city he yet could see;
"Ha!" said the youth, "by my father's hand,
There is no city in all this land."
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

He rode and lilted, he rode and sang,
Then met he by chance Sir Thule Vang;
Sir Thule Vang, with his twelve sons bold,
All cas'd in iron, the bright and cold.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

Svend Vonved took his sword from his side,
He fain would battle with knights so tried;
The proud Sir Thule he first ran through,
And then, in succession, his sons he slew.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.