I do not recognise your face leader; no I do not know you
Who are you, with your sullen expression? Why do you look so blue?
Lady who are you with your alcohol bottle? With your olive skin
You seem so angry beggar woman, as if your anger comes from within
Mary at last a friendly face, but why do you seem so alone?
Normally you’re with him Mary and then you feel at home.
Why do you turn away from me, why do you shake your head?
Then make claims that I’ve forgotten my friend, gone and cut him dead.
It’s what he predicted when he broke the bread.
That the memory of him would escape my head.
Mary my friend, to me he’s already dead.