Tadela-tadela! Had they heard it? The trolls' hoofs ring clear
Tadela-tadela, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The trolls came marching, marching, marching!
The trolls come marching, they stood up straight and still.
For of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon the cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
The trolls come marching, marching, marching,
The trolls come marching, up to the old inn-door.