Regardless of endearments that are said
And of affections won by verse I write,
No matter fears of when her passion's fled
Whilst mine still burns albeit by candlelight,
The ghost that's haunting me throughout this night,
Though with respect it has a tender tread,
Is my lack of jealousy, despite
My lover lying in her husband's bed.

And though I'd have her in my arms instead
So on her lips her name I could recite,
Not thinking of beyond the night ahead,
Nor further than the sacrificial rite
When angels and the devil will unite,
I cannot claim, in truth, that tears are shed
When thinking by tomorrow's morning light
My lover's lying in her husband's bed.

Unworthy of the compliments she's fed
To me to sate this lustful appetite
(And lust is often willed to be misread)
For all the passions this affair ignites
It brands me like the thundering meteorite;
With every penny earned being drunk or read
Is it any wonder that tonight
My lover's lying in her husband's bed?

Envoi:

Prince, I've mocked your kind and been most trite,
The sickening privileged life that you have led,
But to be you when she takes her flight;
My lover's lying in her husband's bed.