The three blind sisters,
(Hope is not cold)
The three blind sisters
Light their lamps of gold.

Up the tower go they,
(They and you and we)
Up the tower go they
To wait the seventh day.

Ah, saith one, turning,
(Still let us hope)
Ah, saith one, turning,
I hear our lamps burning….

Ah, the second saith,
(They and you and we)
Ah, the second saith,
'Tis the king's tread.

Nay, the holiest saith,
(Still let us hope)
Nay, the holiest saith,
But our light is dead.