Sweetest Crimson Rose

O’ sweet little crimson rose
Why is it thee that I hath betrothe?
Aye, it seems right,
Though thou art hateful in the night…
Perhaps we too quickly lifted the veil
For I’ve come to find a dove with no tail.

My sweetest little redrose,
In thee it seems as though darkness has arose,
A blightful lust 
Carrying me away to thy must.
Why is it I who thee dost disdain?
Have I truly bestowed upon thee such a bane?

O’ sweet little blackrose
Why is it thee who I didst perose?
Now with thy hate
I am entangled with your nightshaded fate.
For the hatred that hast come from beneath thy veil,
Must I place your soft wrist upon yon cross and set a nail…

My sweetest little deadrose,
Why my heart didst thee corrode?
Forced my heel upon thy petal
Feeding thee a malicious metal?
Why, my sweetest little primrose
Is it I who you must moroze?