Father, let this cup pass from me.
This cursed chalice, with it's bitter vintage
A poison, as I now see.

Father, forgive my obstinacy,
Twas' but a sip I took,
A mere taste of his lips, no more.
Though he kissed very well, by the book.

Lord, I did hide this from thee.
And would fain have gone my way,
But for these twists and twinges in my heart,
Every time his inconstant eyes are held in another maid's...