In a garden called Gethsemane
A man kneels under the olive trees
He puts his face into his hands
And sets himself upon his knees
Stay awake, sit up and wait
For my time is getting late
And my cold sweat has turned to blood
Because my bitter cup has come
Dark winds blow and rustle the leaves
But everyone is fast asleep
The moon is high as dawn draws near
Then there are footsteps in the clear
Go to sleep and rise at dawn
One, two, three here comes the sun
To be a beacon and a light
Good night, sweet prince
Good night, good night
