The blackest crow that ever flew would slowly turn to white If ever I prove false to you, bright day would turn to night Bright day would turn to night, my love, yellow moons would mourn If ever I prove false to you, the seas would rage and burn I wish my heart was made of glass, wherein you might behold that there your name was wrote, my love, in letters made of bone There your name was wrote, my love Believe me when I say that you are the only one for me, until my dying day