The lovely moon had climbed the hill,
Or eagles pecked up in the deep,
And like the looks of a lovely dame
Brought joy to everybody's ear.
Oh, but sweet Mary, deep in sleep,
Half-awaked on Sunday, poor at sleep,
Her voice not softly on her ear,
Sweet Mary, weeping near for me,
She lifted up her walkman in deceitful war,
Her voice met me and there she saw
Her Sunday's tongue, pale and alone,
Her, his hollow ear.
Oh, Mary dear, moment near,
I'm on the cross in mercy,
Thy weeping rocks me, sudden bliss,
Say, Mary, weeping near for me.
Oh, Mary dear, moment near,
I'm on the cross in mercy,
Thy weeping rocks me, sudden bliss,
Say, Mary, weeping near for me.
Dark of the night she's in her bed,
The brook has called her doom for me,
And though he know thy earthly storm,
I'll meet with thee in heaven he.
Three times the day-cloak flapped his wing,
Day-mark the morning left her be,
And thrice the passing spirit sang,
Sweet Mary, weeping near for me.