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And if be so you have the keys,
Open and let the carling in;
The apostle Peter arose at last,
And to the gate with speed he hies,
Carling quoth he knock not so fast
You cumber Mary with your cries.
Peter, she said let Christ arise,
And grnat me mercy in my need;
For why I ne'er deny'd him thrice,
As though thyself hast done indeed.
Thou carling bold what's that to thee?
I got remission for my sin;
It cost many sad tears to me,
Before I entered here within;
It will not be thy meikle din,
Will cause heav'n's gates opened be,
Thou must be purified of sin,
And of all sins must be made free.
Saint Peter then no thanks to you,
That you were rid of your fears,
It was Christ's gracious look I trow,
That made you weep those bitter tears,
The door of mercy is not closed,
I may get grace as well as ye,
It is not so as ye supposed
I will be in, in spite of thee.
But wicked wife it is too late,
Thou shouldest have mourn'd upon earth,
Repentance now is out of date;
It should have been before thy death;
