A LITTLE BIRD IN THE AIR.
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little bird in the airIs singing of Thyri the fair,The sister of Svend the Dane;And the song of the garrulous birdIn the streets of the town is heard,And repeated again and again.Hoist up your sails of silk,And flee away from each other. To King Burislaf, it is said,Was the beautiful Thyri wed,And a sorrowful bride went she;And after a week and a day,She has fled away and away,From his town by the stormy sea.Hoist up your sails of silk,And flee away from each other. They say, that through heat and through cold,Through weald, they say, and through wold,By day and by night, they say,She has fled; and the gossips reportShe has come to King Olaf's court,And the town is all in dismay.Hoist up your sails of silk,And flee away from each other. It is whispered King Olaf has seen,Has talked with the beautiful Queen;And they wonder how it will end;For surely, if here she remain,It is war with King Svend the Dane,And King Burislaf the Vend!Hoist up your sails of silk,And flee away from each other. O, greatest wonder of all!It is published in hamlet and hall,It roars like a flame that is fanned!The King--yes, Olaf the King--Has wedded her with his ring,And Thyri is Queen in the land!Hoist up your sails of silk,And flee away from each other.
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