Who spurs his steed so late this night?
A man whose son is sick in fright.
He hugs his child to keep him warm
But cant outride the fearful storm.

"Why do you shiver, son , and cry?"
"Because the Erl-King's drawing nigh i see his shroud. I hear him moan."
"'Tis but the fog-we ride alone."

"O, little child, come ride with me.
We'll greet my mother merrily.
She'll pick you flowers, and presents bring,
And dress you like a little king."

"O, father, help! Do you not know
The Erl-King's voice that whispers low?"
"O, rest my son. O, peace, my child-
'tis but the wind that blows so wild."

"O, little child, let's ride away.
With you my daughters wish to play.
They'll give u gifts that you may keep.
They'll dance. They'll sing so you may sleep."

"O, father, help! O, can't you see
The Erl-King's daughters beckon me?"
"My son, forget these idle fears-
You see the willow weep its tears."

"O, little child, I love you so
That i will never let you go."
"O, father, help, or I'll take flight!
The Erl-King's clutch is cold and tight!"

The shivering rider hugs his son,
Then spurs his steed into a run
That brings them home. The father cries,
For in his arms his baby dies.