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Raise the door, the gate opens wide
The bride is coming full of glory
She fornicated, she stole
Sprinkle flowers for the executioner's bride
Myrtle wreath in the black hair
No veil and no wedding altar
No priest for the ritual
The groom ostracized and bald
He quietly calls her his little wife
And looks at her thin body. The crowd of guests in rags crowds around her and laughs and screams. Open the door, the gate opens wide
The bride is coming full of glory
She has fornicated, she has stolen
Gives flowers for the executioner's bride
Once she was as blameless as a deer
And hers Skin like young snow
But in the wheat field by the house
Then her innocence was driven out of her
She killed her little child on a dark night
That unborn in her slept
That did not defend itself and did not call out
Lift up the door, open the gate
The bride is coming full of glory
She has fornicated, she has stolen
Scatter flowers for the executioner's bride