The crowing cock recounts my vow to him And his rebuke, my heart pierced to its root By eyes divine. With Jacob's fate now grim, Cold fear did grip my soul and render mute My loyalty that I had pledged before, When bread he broke and wine he poured to seal The Cov’nant new. The oath which I had sworn, The Christ to whom my feeble frame did kneel, Now both are broken as the bread he served. The crowd did ask me thrice to name my Lord, Yet I denied him, thus my life preserved. I fled from him whom still my soul adored. And when I saw him hanged upon the tree, My King, my friend - I wished that it were me.
This is very, very good Brady. Well done. Whether you know it or not, it turns out you are a poet.