They’ve come to see a girl afire
To watch her build herself a pyre
The pious fix their shiny gaze
On sinner, purged in holy blaze

Entrapped by tongue of saintly liar
A prayer made false by fouled friar
While wretched sheep bleat empty praise
Harsh price, the girl, their scapegoat, pays

She falters not, as they conspire
Will not be shamed, though her end dire
With gravity she mounts the dais
Calm dignity, which does amaze

Those righteous sing in raucous choir
How dare she lift her chin up higher!
Yet shrieking scorn still fails to faze                                       The one on which cruel burden weighs 

In secret rapture they admire
The burning martyr of their desire 
Her head, haloed by smoky haze
Her hands, like flares, are poised to raze

Her eyes, they smolder dark with ire
With living flames for her attire
They cry, mercy! , a worthless phrase
For judgment falls on final days