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TRIKE lightning above this house, This house of God where we are dying, Where we think lightly of Thee, God, And, thinking lightly, sing Hallelujah.

Were it not for Thee, we had loved men; Had courted and married, Brought up children, Taught them and sung Hallelujah.

Thou hast cheated us, poor wretches! And we, defrauded and unlucky, Ourselves have fooled Thee, And howled and sung: Hallelujah.

With barber's shears hast put us in this nunnery, And we—young women still— We dance and sing, And singing say: Hallelujah.