Before your presence, I appear as a mage
With offerings of silver, gold, and sage
To quell your fiery storm, long foretold
To calm the wrath, in legends bold
Your temper keep, I pray before I speak
My knees, they quiver and tremble weak
I stutter with every word I dare to utter
In your fury, I melt like butter
Like to the god of death, I say: not today
My intentions pure, please understand I pray
With no malice or spite, I voice these things
Oh, what sorrow your temper brings!
My Holy Lady of Rage, I come to you humbly
Be merciful, I beg, embrace me gently