With tears and with kisses His feet are all wet;
The boys are all staring and no word is said,
For she wipes His wet feet with the hair of her head—
Her lovely brown hair that no boy can forget,
It is like a brown beech-wood, the hair of her head.
From Horeham Road to Boreham Street
And High Horse Bridge where the waters meet—
East or west, was there ever seen
Such a sighing, such a crying for Mary Magdalene?
And the Preacher has stooped, and has blessed her and raised her,