Lift my flaccid form from the cross, my body drained of blood
Relieve my dislocated arms of pressure, stiffened like planks of wood
Drape me over one of your backs as if I were a child
Carry me away on a man-made stretcher; all your arms compiled
Walk with care down the stairs, following one by one
For I am dead, nothing can change, alas the deed is done
Lay me in my darling’s arms as she bows her head weeps
Don’t cry for me my lowly friends, for now forever I’ll sleep.