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Tytke,(1) peasant, halt quickly;
I hold on to those whom I grasp.
Have you been obedient to the ten holy commandments
that your vicar used to read for you
then you won't be harmed a bit now
and you will come to very great happiness.
You rider would like to be called nobleman,
dance forth - don't let yourself be depressed.
I will fight with you on this day,
if you win you'll be knighted.
I will no longer spare your violence -
your big words don't help you a bean.(4)
No really! How shall I already die like that!
I still want to bind many sheaves.
Might I live until harvest -
my wife also has fifteen pieces of yarn.
Not a bit(2) ails me - might I live.
I would also like to give my nobleman the farm rent.
Well then, well then, with an easy mind.
He, who doesn't dare, cannot win.
Death makes me half-crazy,
I think he is completely mad.
He is starting to pick me here and there -
He truly intends to tear the skin of me.

Footnotes: (1) (2) (3) (4)