Se keem an’t Bett in’n Dodenhemd
   un harr ’n Licht in Hand.
Se weer noch witter as ähr Hemd
   un as de witte Wand.

She came to his bedside wearing her shroud
   and held in her hand a light.
She was even whiter than her shroud
   and the whitewashed wall, that white.

So keem se langsaam langs de Stuv’
   un faat an de Gardien.
Se lücht un keek em in’t Gesich
   un lœhn sik œver hin.

This is how she slowly crossed the floor
   and gently touched the curtain.
She shone the light in his face some more,
   bent down as if to be certain.

Doch harr se Mund un Ogen to,
   de Bossen stunn’n ähr still,
Se röhr keen Lied un sehg’ doch ut
   as Een de spräken will.

Yet her mouth was shut, shut too her eyes
   and motionless her breast.
She moved no lid, yet you’d surmise
   that speaking was her quest.

Dat Gräsen kroop em langs den Rügg
   un Schuder dœr de Huud.
He meen, he schreg’ in Dodesangst,
   un broch keen Stimm herut.

Down his spine and skin crept terror sheer
   and hard his heart did pound.
He meant to scream in mortal fear
   but could not make a sound.

He meen, he greep mit beide Hann’n
   un wehr sik vœr den Dood,
Un föhl mank alle Schreckensangst,
   he röhr ni’ Hand noch Foot.

He tried to move with all his might
   to ward off his demise,
But in his horror, dread and fright
   his limbs just would not rise.

Doch as he endli’ to sik keem,
   do gung se jüs ut d’ Dœr,
As Kried’ so witt, in’n Dodenhemd,
   un lücht sik langsaam vœr.

But once he managed to prevail
   she had reached the door from his bed,
As white as chalk, wearing her veil,
   lighting the gloom ahead.