Prevod

“Yes, that is certainly a song for very little children!” Aunt Malle declared. “Try as I may, I cannot make sense of it!” But little Amalie could; she was only three years old, played with dolls, and brought them up to be just as wise as Aunt Malle.

A student came to the house to help the brothers with their lessons. He talked a great deal to little Amalie and her dolls, and quite differently from everyone else. The little girl thought it such fun, yet Aunt Malle said he had no idea how to deal with children; their little heads could not possibly hold such talk. Little Amalie’s could, and she even learned a whole song by heart from the student: “Dance, Dance, Little Doll of Mine!” She sang it to her three dolls. Two were new, one a young lady and the other a gentleman, but the third doll was old and was called Lise. She too heard the song, and had a part in it.

Dance, dance, little doll of mine! See the lady, dressed so fine! And her gentleman is too, hat and gloves, and coat of blue, trousers white as driven snow, and a corn upon his big toe.

He is fine, and she is fine. Dance, dance, little doll of mine! Here is dear old Mother Lise, last year’s doll, if you please; flaxen hair, all fresh and new, forehead washed with butter too;

now she’s quite a girl again. Come along, my dear old friend! All three of you shall dance for me. It’s worth paying just to see. Dance, dance, little doll of mine! Mind your steps and keep in line!

Turn your foot out, stand up straight, look how slim and sweet and light! Curtsy, turn, and spin around, nothing could be half so sound! What a pretty sight to see. You are sweet, all three!

And the dolls understood the song, little Amalie understood it, and the student understood it; he had written it himself and said it was quite excellent. Only Aunt Malle did not understand it; she had climbed beyond the fence of childishness. “Foolishness!” she called it. But little Amalie had not; she sings the song.

It is from her that we have it.