Born and reared in blind superstition,
The darkest that's under the sun;
Early taught she must go to confession,
The deluded Catholic Nun.

The priest says it is her vocation
And from thence she dare not run,
If she didn't it would be damnation,
She must be a Catholic Nun,

She loves her home and her dear ones,
And enjoys all innocent fun,
She can't bear to leave them forever,
And. become a Catholic Nun.

Yet facing eternal destruction,
When this life with, its pleasures is done,
She bids them a last farewell sadly,
And takes up the life of a Nun.

Oft it is her most consecrated,
Yes, Us that fair, virtuous one;
Who takes on the vows of the Sister
And becomes a Catholic Nun.

Ah, what fierce conflicts are before her,
Ere that purity is sacrificed;
Enduring severe persecutions
Before, she, by priests is enticed.

But what can she do in a Convent
When no one is there to befriend?
She has witnessed the fate of some, others
As they, held out to a bitter end.

So she's yielding at last, half believing
That a priest committeth no sin;
But were she once out of a Convent
She never would enter again.

Ah, read ye the lives of the sisters
Whose hearts have been cruelly wrung
And you will not blame but will pity
The fate of the Catholic Nun.

Yes, e'en as we pity the Bramin,
Who, before Jug-un-nat-hu doth lie,
Till that great car crushes him lifeless
That he may be happy on high.

Yea, more, for his torture soon endeth,
While here lasts for many long years;
There alone in a cell or a dungeon
She waters her couch with her tears.

Do we own there is any salvation
In the Bramin's torturing tricks?
Do we think there is any redemption
In lashing the body with sticks?

If we did we might say there was virtue
In becoming a nun, yes, in more;
In giving their lives to the fat priests,
In kneeling and kissing the floor.

How we pity that Mother who sacrificed
To her idol that precious sweet life;
And we pray for that heathen parent,
But more for the Catholic Nun.