En vår morgen, da solen stod højt,
Til byen en spillemand kom,
Han sat' sig og kigged' omkring,
Og nu da skaren kom nærmere, begynt' han at spill'.

Byens godtfolk, de dansed' og lo,
Som fortryllet af musikkens klang,
Men en karl, han spejded' en æske,
En sølvdåse, som spillemanden, han prøved' at skul'.

"Spelmand, spelmand, spelmand, si' vos, wa' do har I æ dås,
Spelmand, spelmand, spelmand, vis no, wa' der æ I æ dås."

Trods hans klager, rives dåsen fra hans hænder,
Da låget løftes blev himlen så sort som den mørkest' nat,
De meldt' aldrig, hvad de så, ikke en sjæl undslap.

Den aften da solen gik ned,
Lå byen så underligt stil'
Den fremmede, han var Fanden selv,
Og nu, da mørket frembrød, så begyndt' han at spil'

Spillemandens dåse.
Spillemandens dåse.


(The minstrel's box -
A kind of Pandora's Box story. Here the box is made of silver and is owned by a roving minstrel, who plays for the crowd at a market. One of the lads notices the silver box, and the crowd insist on opening it. The minstrel is against it, but the box is taken from him and opened. What it contained is anyone's guess - nobody survived to tell. And the minstrel - he was none other than the Devil himself)


Lyrics submitted by Laminated

Spillemandens Dåse song meanings
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