O rise in me this font of love ,
that I should dwell with thee above ,
that in his name my dwelling place ,
to find his kindness and his grace.

Never to wander or pick a fruit thou asked me not such ill repute .
So I be tempted but by nought ,
or face the Roth such bitter a thought .

O Lord who helpest from above ,
find all in me nothing but love .
Quench the serpents deceitful hand ,
the ace of spades ,
the jack of clubs .

The hood that masks his evil eye ,
that sayes all must perish ,
all must die !

That love is just a falling card ,
with hate on the other side ,
falls fast .
And where it lands our future holds .
All of Satan’s lies .

Hush be still my beating heart ,
for the one I love is home ,
She keeps within her breast a fruit for me picked from a tree ,
it was meant to be ,
fruit from my lovers heart .

A fire is lit ,
a most favourable chair ,do I sit .
My lover knees before me ,
her eyes look into mine ,
this fruit I see before me ,
Is either pure evil ,
or Devine. ?

Yet all this can wait I shall leave a knife by my plate ,
put breath to my candle ,
and find rest in her come to bed eyes .