Ramund
Ramund var sig en bedre mand
Om han havde bedre klæder
Dronningen gav hannem klæder på stand
Af blårgarn, bast og læder
Sådant vil jeg ikke ha', sagde Ramund
Sådant står mig ikke bra', sagde Ramund den unge
Ramund gik sig ved salten søstrand
Der så han syv jætter stande
Tager jeg Ramund på min mindste hånd
Og kaster ham langt fra lande
Det gør ikke ene du, sagde Ramund
Komme må I alle syv, sagde Ramund den unge
Ramund tog til sit dyre sværd
Det han kaldte Dymlingen røde
Hug han de jætter syv med én færd
At blodet randt dennem tildøde
Der ligger alle syv, sagde Ramund
Alt står jeg her endnu, sagde Ramund den unge
Ramund tog til sin store kniv
Den han kaldte Dymlingen dyre
Skilte han kejseren ved hans liv
At hovedet fløj femten mile
Jeg mente, den ej bed, sagde Ramund
Dog rinder blodet ned, sagde Ramund den unge
Ramund
Ramund would be a better man
If he had better clothes
The queen dressed him in fine attire
Of blue yarn, bast, and leather
I don’t want that, said Ramund
That doesn’t suit me, said young Ramund
Ramund walked by the salty shore
There he saw seven giants standing
"I’ll take Ramund with my smallest hand
And throw him far from the land"
You’re not the only one, said Ramund
All seven of you come at me, said young Ramund
Ramund drew his precious sword
The one he called the Red Dymling
He struck the seven giants in one blow
Till their blood ran out and they were dead
There they lie, all seven, said Ramund
I’m still standing here, said young Ramund
Ramund took his big knife
The one he called the Precious Dymling
He separated the emperor from his life
As his head flew fifteen miles
I thought it wouldn’t hurt, said Ramund
But blood is still running down, said young Ramund