Old King Jo-hann in days that are gone
Was rul-er of land and sea,
A bach'-lor proud he talked like a crowd
And spoke of him-self as "We,"
His sub-jects quaked with fear when he spake
And trem-bled to see his frown,
But a weak-ness he had
And it put him to the bad,
He loved the swish of a silk-en gown.
Of a silk-en gown, of a silk-en gown.
Jo-hann was a roy-al sort of Don Juan,
And his rep-u-ta-tion fright-ened all the lad-ies And the pret-ty ones re-paid
his ten-der glanc-es with scorn,
Full loud on his king-ly hon-or he vowed
With a fright-ful oath that by his con-science
la-den he would wed the fair-est maid-en that had ev-er been born.
He Wil-hel-min-a sought for his queen,
A prin-cess so young and slim!
But she loved true a sail-or she knew,
And planned to e-lope with him.
She ran a-way to Kat-wyk aan Zee
But all of her plans went ill,
For King Jo-hann that night ov-er-took her in her flight,
And locked her up in the old Red Mill.
CHORUS
The night was still but ghost-like, the mill
Kept wav-ing its spec-tral arms,
And those a-round heard mys-ti-cal sounds,
Which thrilled them with vague a-larms.
At break of dawn the prin-cess had gone
But how is a myst-'ry still,
And at twelve ev-'ry night there's a fig-ure all in white,
That haunts the tow'r of the old Red Mill.
CHORUS