Our Ulla lay one morning and slept, 
A hand beneath her ear; 
Her key alone the taverner kept 
Or through its hole might peer. 
Outside in the tavern, sir, 
All was nocturnally quiet; 
Beer was none, nor, I'll aver, 
Scarce water to supply it. 
On tip-toes 
He comes and goes 
About her bedside, brothers; 
Lifts a bit 
Of coverlet, 
And whispers with the others. 
Ulla quivers, 
Snores and shivers, 
O'er her head the blanket piles; 
Snuggles under, 
With a thunder; 
Turns about and smiles.