My days within these walls are numbered, soon,
the piper will be paid to play a different tune,
of plots and plans, of futures, I'll not speak,
though, in my silence, I seem to others, weak,
whispers reach my ears, dangerous talk!
thank god I can retreat upon the chapel walk,
here is peace, where my thoughts are my own
here the tears drop from my eyes that are alone,
here in solitude do I stand and truly pray,
for my lord, my dearest husband, who is gone away,
gone, to fight for and with Elizabeth, our queen,
the months have passed, and still his face remains unseen,
but, by god's grace, a messenger is sent this way!,
to tell of news....her majesty has won the day!,
and my dearest rides with great haste to York!
while I give thanks, on bended knee, upon the chapel walk.