Es heult der Sturm, die Nacht ist graus, <br />Die Lampe schimmert im Müllerhaus. <br />Da schleichen drei Räuber wild und stumm - <br />Husch, husch, pist, pist! - ums Haus herum. <br />Die Müllerstochter spinnt allein, <br />Drei Räuber schaun zum Fenster herein. <br />Der zweite will Blut, der dritte will Gold, <br />Der erste, der ist dem Mädel hold. <br /> <br />The storm wind howls - a grisly night; <br />The lamp in the mill is twinkling bright. <br />Three robbers are sneaking, wild and still - <br />hush, hush, whist, whist! - around the mill. <br />The miller's daughter sits and spins. <br />There! In the window - three evil grins! <br />The second wants blood, the third wants gold, <br />The first is after the maiden bold.<br /><br />Wilhelm Busch<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-miller-s-bold-daughter/
