“My mother she killed me, My father he ate me, My sister, little Marlinchen, Gathered together all my bones, Tied them in a silken handkerchief, Laid them beneath the juniper-tree, Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!” Then the bird flew away to a shoemaker, and lighted on his roof and sang, “My mother she killed me, My father he ate me, My sister, little Marlinchen, Gathered together all my bones, Tied them in a silken handkerchief, Laid them beneath the juniper-tree, Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!” The shoemaker heard that and ran out of doors in his shirt sleeves, and looked up at his roof, and was forced to hold his hand before his eyes lest the sun should blind him. “Bird,” said he, “how beautifully thou canst sing!” Then he called in at his door, “Wife, just come outside, there is a bird, look at that bird, he just can sing well.” Then he called his daughter and children, and apprentices, boys and girls, and they all came up the street and looked at the bird and saw how beautiful he was, and what fine red and green feathers he had, and how like real gold his neck was, and how the eyes in his head shone like stars. “Bird,” said the shoemaker, “now sing me that song again.” “Nay,” said the bird, “I do not sing twice for nothing; thou must give me something.” “Wife,” said the man, “go to the garret, upon the top shelf there stands a pair of red shoes, bring them down.” Then the wife went and brought the shoes. “There, bird,” said the man, “now sing me that piece again.” Then the bird came and took the shoes in his left claw, and flew back on the roof, and sang, “My mother she killed me, My father he ate me, My sister, little Marlinchen, Gathered together all my bones, Tied them in a silken handkerchief, Laid them beneath the juniper-tree, Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!” And when he had sung the whole he flew away. In his right claw he had the chain and the shoes in his left, and he flew far away to a mill, and the mill went, “klipp klapp, klipp klapp, klipp klapp,” and in the mill sat twenty miller’s men hewing a stone, and cutting, hick hack, hick hack, hick hack, and the mill went klipp klapp, klipp klapp, klipp klapp. Then the bird went and sat on a lime-tree which stood in front of the mill, and sang, “My mother she killed me,” Then one of them stopped working, “My father he ate me.” Then two more stopped working and listened to that, “My sister, little Marlinchen,” Then four more stopped, “Gathered together all my bones, Tied them in a silken handkerchief,” Now eight only were hewing, “Laid them beneath” Now only five, “The juniper-tree,” And now only one, “Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!” Then the last stopped also, and heard the last words. “Bird,” said he, “how beautifully thou singest! Let me, too, hear that. Sing that once more for me.” “Nay,” said the bird, “I will not sing twice for nothing. Give me the millstone, and then I will sing it again.”