Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Lenchen,
sweet and gentle, with golden braids.
Her parents loved her very much,
but warned her: "At night, don't stray too far from our touch,
don't wander far from our dear house,
for darkness hides a dreadful spouse."
But Lenchen, light of heart and bold,
did not quite grasp the warnings told.
She thought, "Oh, what could happen to me?
The moon will shine so bright and free!"
And when the clock struck midnight's chime,
Lenchen unlatched the door in time.
Barefoot she stepped into the lane,
her little dress like wind-blown flame.
The mist crept forth from moor and fen,
dark whispers reached her ears just then.
But Lenchen laughed, she danced, she sang,
until she heard a soft, sad pang.
From shadow's edge and wind so grim
appeared a pale man, eyes full to the brim.
His face was ghostly, his cloak was wide,
he cried, "Come here, child, to my side!"
Lenchen, curious, drew near the shade—
he seized her hand so coldly laid.
And off he took her 'cross the land,
into a dark and distant strand.
Her parents called, they searched and prayed,
but Lenchen was forever stayed.
And still today, when mists are thick,
a child's faint cries may haunt the wick.
And every girl who strays too late
may share with Lenchen the same dark fate.