With chain in her hands she beckons me to come,

with fear in my heart,I run through the forest deep;

but when the chase was hot,and only darkness I do see,

she caught up with me,and put my heart to It earthly sleep.

She was the Lady I never wish to forever in my healthy life meet,

for she appears in many ways the heart cannot ever in a second think;

She can come in the form of sickness to weaken our fleshy meat,

even the wealthy quake,and at the call of her name,the poor sink.

She was born from the loins of Adam in that blissful garden,

In which our mother first gave him the romantic fruit to eat;

I mean,the fruit that has taught us good and evil right from Eden,

and there,we threw goodness to the face of the ground,and bow to evil's feet.

She was the product of our fathers first art,
but now,

we are left to bear the brunt with our heart.

Tale of sorrow...

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