The blackest crow that ever flew would slowly turn to white
If ever I prove false to you, bright day would turn to night
Bright day would turn to night, my love, yellow moons would mourn
If ever I prove false to you, the seas would rage and burn
I wish my heart was made of gla**, wherein you might behold
that there your name was wrote, my love, in letters made of bone
There your name was wrote, my love
Believe me when I say that you are the only one for me, until my dying day