When thou didst cry for help,
Where thou layed writhing,
Wretched and beleft of spirit,
Pyned by torturous flames,
Of thine umteen afflictions.
I didst see thee sickened so,
Dread-stricken and weeping,
O'er the noisome memories,
Of thine defoulen disgrace,
Thou sat on ya rump glum.
I didst come o'er thither,
Encompassed with love,
And a passionate suasion,
To enliven thy wispy spirit,
Yet thou hast forsaken me.