Thou, mounted on thy gallant steed,
A mighty man dost ride,
And I, thy little serving-boy,
Run singing at thy side.

Thou thinkest I who follow thee
Am but a thoughtless boy,
That warbles, like the forest birds,
From fullness of my joy.

Yet does my careless caroling
Bring to thy lips a smile,
My feet run lightly at the thought
For many a weary mile.

Oh, didst thou know how oft my feet
Were aching as I ran,
Tho' I am but thy serving-boy,
And thou a mighty man,

Thou wouldest lift me from the ground
And set me on thy knee,
And glad me with thy noble smile,
And let me ride with thee.

So thou, thy shield upon thy arm,
O'er hill and dale dost ride,
And I, thy little serving-boy,
Run singing by thy side.