A video of Lars-Göran Johansson performing “Möte i rymden” (“Encounter in Space”) by Sam J. Lundwall at a 2012 club meeting of Club Cosmos, the oldest still extant science fiction club in Sweden (it was formed in 1954). “Möte i rymden” was one of three science fiction themed songs on Lundwall’s record “Visor i vår tid” (“Songs in Our Time”) which was released in 1966, which also contained several more songs that had fantasy themes or were fannish in outlook. It is possible that the song was written as early in 1963, when several of Lundwall’s songs were played at a Swedish con.
Note that the linked video is only available in WebM format. Here is a rough translation to English of the song:
Encounter in Space
We anchored in space by a faraway satellite
that lied in eternal orbit around its star.
In the mess hall I met a thirsty parasite;
||: a childhood friend that I now met again. :||
“Hi, dear Oskar Fikonström, mu old childhood friend!
You old sailor, are you still alive?
What has happened to you, you’re barely recognisable!”
||: “Yes, what has happened I will tell you right now. :||
I ran away from Earth real early as you know,
since I wanted to be on the ocean of space;
and with time I found a berth on an old space rocket,
||: the boss was a devil, but he was a fan! :|| 
We traveled to Vega with contraband and liquor,
I was still young and green and rather naïve.
I removed rust at the prow but got hardly any pay –
||: that time was the worst one in my life! :||
Work like a dog at any weather in the black holes of space,
and have the free watch in the terrible reactor light.
Space is filled with monsters that will kill humans,
||: and at all times a spaceman should be at hand! :||
Yes, I’ve seen most things that are here to see;
at Capella I met a beautiful blonde.
We were in her apartment when she exploded –
||: all of her was made up of nitroglycerine! :||
Black from soot and without clothes, all my body as a wound,
I sat astounded there with ashes in my lap
when a man with eight arms suddenly walked up to me:
||: the Earth’s consul with an unfathomable name! :||
I got new oxygen tubes and a decent ray gun
that was filled with death and the power of wild stars.
The consul’s fourth cousin got me a berth to a very far away sun,
||: but that trip wa the worst I ever had! :||
The ship where I got a place was of a strange type,
everything was wrong, and the air stank like a sewer.
Its captain was like an cephalopod with great green scales
||: and with evil-looking eyes at front and back! :||
Twenty light-years from Earth our engine broke down;
the animals in our cargo drank all our supplies.
We had to keep us alive using beer and aspirine;
||: one can hardly believe it’s true! :||
Yes, it was hard years in space, but I managed pretty well,
and though thirty I’m still at full vitality.
So thanks for all the drinks, but now I have to leave;
||: I have contraband in the rocket parked outside! :||
And then we parted in the mess hall with some simple words
and a handshake with my old childhood friend,
while thousands of millions white stars stood above
||: on the cold and black sky! :||
 The word “fan” can in Swedish both be used for fen and for the Devil.