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