Ei ta døm største Ringsmyra,
Noko nord om Lauvliseter
Fekk engong Sjuguttmyra te namn
Etter noko grufullt hadde hendt
Sju gutter hadde stevna hinaen
Fra setrer rundtom på skauen
Døm vart itte eni' på ansles vis
Enn om å sliss te blodet rann
Døm skyra greiner ta
Ei furu like ved
Så spissa døm staura te
Og rauk sammen og slogs
Da kampen var over
Låg seks daue att på myra
Med innvolla i henda
Drog nummer sju seg hem
Så gjekk det itte bere
Hell at'n døe etter ei stynn
Da'n væl var heme og hadde fortelt
Om slaget som hadde tii stad
Seia detta hendte
I år sekstenhundreogno'
Har sju staure fått stå i myra
Som et minne ifrå gammal ti'
Alt som står i myra
Blir svart som bek og hardt som stål
Drar te seg jernet fra lendet rundt
Eller blodet te sju gutter under torva
One of the largest Ring-marshes
A stone's throw north of Lauvliseter
Was once named Sjuguttmyra
After something terrible happened there
Seven young shepherds had summoned each other
From different farms around the forest
Seems they couldn't come to an agreement any other way
Than to fight until rivers of blood would flow
They cut branches off
An old pine nearby
Then they sharpened their spears
And clashed together and fought
When the battle was over
Six of them laid dead on the marshlands
With his own guts in his hands
The seventh crawled home
It didn't end better
Than that he died after a while
Just shortly after he came home
And told about the battle that had been fought
Ever since this happened
Sometime in the sixteen-hundreds
Seven poles have stood in the marsh
As a memory of times which have long since passed
Everything that stands in the marsh
Turns pitch-black and hard as steel
Draws iron from the soil around
Or the blood of seven boys six feet under