With his purple blood streaming from his new naked sores,
His body quite weary and really exhausted,
They loosed him then scornfully to draw again his gores.
Then they pressed on his head a wreath,
Of sharp long thorns that caused much pain;
And fixed in his hands a rod or cane,
In his face then they spewed.
Their phlegm which so basely destraped all his beauty,
And yet to salute him they rudely then bowed,
After disgorging their thick phlegms so nauseous,
In the face of my darling, they all then agreed,
To nail him most barbarous on a long tree with scorn,
And then to exalt him his heart's blood to bleed;
When his journey was over in this doleful situation,
They fastened him with gross nails to the load he did bear,
And raised him with ropes as a show to spectator,
And he for those slaying him offering his prayers.
They pierced his heart with a lance by force,
And made his side so wide a wound,
That his precious blood then gushed in gores,
To save and restore.
Author Unknown
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