Magdalen at Michael’s gate
Tirled at the pin;
On Joseph’s thorn sang the blackbird,
“Let her in! let her in!”
“Hast thou seen the wounds?” said Michael;
“Know’st thou thy sin?”
“It is evening, evening,” sang the blackbird,
“Let her in! let her in!”
“Yes, I have seen the wounds,
And I know my sin.”
“She knows it well, well, well,” sang the blackbird:
“Let her in! let her in!”
“Thou bringest no offerings,” said Michael,
“Naught save sin.”
And the blackbird sang, “She is sorry, sorry, sorry;
Let her in! let her in!”
When he had sung himself to sleep,
And night did begin,
One came and opened Michael’s gate,
And Magdalen went in.