DESCRIPTION:
I'll take it upon myself,
To take back what once was mine.
For I don't expect the thief,
To graceously return it in time.

And I've always said "I don't mind
The burden of a thorn in my side."

You've been so unwell, so ill
And I feel that I'm somewhat to blame.
For a horse never asks to be ridden uphill,
As much as it's asked to be named.

And it's true these wonds heal in time,
But I'm pained from a thorn in my side.

St Anne won't do as she's told,
And I'm worried she may not survive.
For the nights are increasingly cold,
She's becoming to ill to fight.

And I bow down my head to find
A scar from the thorn in my side.

Now if silver could buy what I need,
Well, yes father, I'd work for free.
But if gold could be bartered for blood and for wine,
I'd ask your daughter to follow me.

If it were only a matter of pride,
Then I'd remove this thorn from my side.