Countess Báthory bit hard,
On the neck of Branka,
Then the blood flow'd round about,
Thick and red the sangue;
Spilling blood of peasant girls,
Báthory ordered them whip-ped,
Whips whistling with mighty swirls,
And their flesh was rip-ped.

"Hither, Dorka, stand by me,
If thou know'st it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is she?
Where and what her dwelling?";
"Madame, she lives in yon village,
Underneath our power;
Our home, the Castle ÄŒachtice,
Providing a blood shower!";

"Bring me maids, and I shall dine,
Bring me some pins hither:
You and I will hear them cry,
Then we watch them whither.
Ilona Jó, procure them!";
Forth they went together;
Thro' the rude wind's wild lament
And the bitter weather.
"Madame, winter 's colder now,
And the wind blows stronger;
Fails my heart, I know not how
They can live much longer.";
"Strip this maiden, my good maid;
"Gainst frigid winter's breezing:
Pour iced water o'er her head
And's she'll die from freezing!"

In her lady's steps she trod,
Where the stairs lay bloodstained;
The torture chamber cold yet hot
With caged girls, pained.
Fizcko, Thorko, bring that one,
Fair despite her scarring,
To the spiked orb, give me fun-
Her flesh will shred through jarring!