Paroles de Swete Sone

Swete sone, reu on me And breste out of thy bondes For me thinket that I see Thoru Bothen thin bondes Nailes driven into the tree So reufuliche thu honges Now is betre that I flee And lett alle these londes Swete sone, thy faire face Droppet all on blode And thy body downward Is bounded to the rode How may thy modress hert Tholen so swete fode That blessed was of alle born And best of alle gode How may thy modress hert Tholen so swete fode That blessed was of alle born And best of alle gode Swete sone, reu on me And bring me out of this live For me thinket that I see Thy deth, it neyhet swithe Thy feet nailed to the tree Now may I no more thrive For this werld withouten thee Ne shall me maken blithe