Who do you mourn, oh woman of stone; what pain, oh what sorrow, do you cry for?
Why do you mourn, oh woman forlorn; whose hand made your tears fall so lonely?
Who do you watch or'e full day and all night; whose corpse does your silence still call to?
When will you leave; from whence your reprieve? Your sorrow does serve you no more.
But stay you will, cold quiet and still. Your wound is still open and dripping.
The pain stays with you. The sting becomes you and your choice to remain is eternal.
The life that was lost should have been but one cost, but with you old man death got a couple.