Soon the widowed mother must marry her young daughter;
But on a day a noble king came riding down by chance;
He saw her two white hands, he saw her golden tresses,
And wooed the little maiden, to make her Queen of France.

The girl's little brother he cried from the doorway:
“Oh, let her go, my mother, she will be bravely wed.”
But the girl's mother she looked from the window:
“I will never give my daughter to such as you,” she said.

Now the fair little maiden, while her mother 's speaking,
Has mounted to the saddle as nimbly as may be:
“Oh, go your own way, oh, go your way, my daughter,
And may you be drowned in the depths of the sea!”

When they came to the seashore the little maiden trembled;
“Now hold fast by the saddle, my bride, till we are through.”
“Oh, I cannot hold, I cannot; my mother she has cursed me;
And the curse of a mother or a father must come true.

“I, a poor little girl, must be drowned in the water!
Each little white hand will be gnawed until it bleeds;
My blood that is so sweet will be sucked by the fishes;
My hair that is so yellow will be tangled in the weeds.”

“O sailors of the sea, will you fish for my sweetheart?
You shall have two hundred scudi, if you find her drowned;
If you find her living, you may have your will for asking.”
They have fished for three days, but the maid they have not found.