Alone I sit here, in the dark.
Straw is my only bed.
Straining my ears for every sound.
Water and a loaf of bread.
I hear the muffled sounds down below,
as they search about the house.
They tap on the walls with their mallets,
cursing because I cannot be found.
Was that a creak on the stairs I heard?
Am I about to be found?
I clutch my wooden rosary beads,
a muttered prayer, to the Mother of God.
It's cold, I'm alone, sat in the dark.
The searchers, are they now above?
I dare not move, I dare not breathe,
torture and death if I'm found.
Where is the priest?
I hear them shout,
to the lady of the house.
Give him up, you Catholic scum,
or it'll be worse for you in the days to come.
Sat alone in this cold damp hole,
hidden in the ground.
The searchers are all around me.
Torture and death if I'm found.
