The Miller's Bold Daughter

By Wilhelm Busch

The storm wind howls – a grisly night;
The lamp in the mill is twinkling bright.
Three robbers are sneaking, wild and still –
hush, hush, whist, whist! – around the mill.
The miller’s daughter sits and spins.
There! In the window – three evil grins!
The second wants blood, the third wants gold,
The first is after the maiden bold.

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