The Holy Sin!

No shrill screams did she spare

The wee dark room's air,

Clammy with the haze of sweat;

Though with no strong grit and eyes wet

After all, it was all for the good Lord's sake he said

The blood stains on the bed, 

The lips bit red, 

All did but tell with haste, 

That no longer was she chaste

After all, it was all for the good Lord's sake 

Or so did he say, 

Gliding himself back into his Soutane!