'T is but me, My Lord, the one yearning for your touch,
Without restraint, within these arms, desiring you e'er much.

'T is yet me, My Lord, caught beneath your wand'ring gaze,
Which casts its spell, causing me to wish for wanton ways.

'T is e'er me, My Lord, sitting silently behind your chair,
Waiting for you to retire, leaving me in dark despair.

'T is me, and me alone, My Lord, standing in the pale moonlight,
Begging you to take me, to teach me all you know this night.

'T is yours forever I shall be, this man who is My Lord,
For I will pledge my life and love, upon the edge of his sword.