The Curse of Medea

I am a wretched suffering woman

Oh how I wish that I could die

This agony that I have suffered

Deep enough to make even gods cry

Sons of a mother doomed

What gain is life to me

Oh to die and win release

Quitting this loathed existence

I did bind that accursed one

By these strong oaths to me

Oh to see him and his bride

Brought of utter destruction

The fierce black fury of my wrath

A bitter cry of mortal lamentation

I call on to the cursed traitor

You'll pay for this humiliation

A coward at the sight of steel

With deadlier thoughts than mine

No heart is filled

No deadlier thoughts than mine

Poor children your blood is mine

Poor children your mortal blood is mine