There are four corners on my bed
There are four angles around me spread
Matthew, Mark, Luke and John,
God bless the bed that I lie on
And when I lay my head to sleep.
I pray the lord my soul to keep
The Jews, they come with their swords so sharp
To pierce our saviour through the heart
From the heart to the hand
The blessed blood did flow
And our blessed lady was standing by
With a mournful look and a pitiful sigh
Those who repeat these words three times by night and three times by day
The gates of hell shall never see.