Before the Court
From who I got it I will not say,
a child he’s put in me.
“So she admits! That whore sits there!”
Yet I’m an honest woman still:
With whom I trust, I will not say,
My darling’s kind and good.
He wears his gold around his neck,
his straw upon his head.
Should he wear this shame as well?
I’ll wear it by myself;
I know him well, he knows me well,
and God, he knows us both.
Pastor, bailiff, I beg of you,
leave me here in peace.
It is my child, it stays my child,
and you've no law to make me speak.
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