Yes you have been unfaithful, this is true

And so have I, to even yet the score;

Still now you’ve come to seek what we might do

To stay this damning fate we both abhor.

Sweet love upon the gallows—now deemed just,

Awaiting but the noose around her neck;

The sand bag test late giving solid trust—

And now she stands in tears upon the deck.

But all sin pardoned, pray what might this do,

Commute our pain to life without parole

That every time your visage I may view,

Dark memories lash out to hate cajole?

No reparation would such sentence bring—

So drop the door and let that harlot swing.