Beata Maria,
You know I am a rightous man, of my viture I am justly proud.

Beata Maria,
You know I'm so much purer than, the common, vulgar, weak, litenous crowd!

Then tell me, Maria!
Why I see her dancing there? Why her smold'ring eyes still scortch my soul!

I feel her, I see her, the sun caught in her raven hair, is blazing in me out of all control!

Like fire! Hellfire! This fire in my skin! This burning, desire, is turning me to sin!

It's not my fault, I'm not to blame!

It is the Gypsy girl, the witch who set this flame!

It's not my fault, if in God's plan;

He made the devil so much stronger than a man!

Protect me, Maria, don't let this siren cast her spell, don't let her fire sear my flesh and bone!

Destroy Esmaralda, and make her taste the fires of hell, or else let her be mine and mine alone!

Hellfire, dark fire, now gypsy it's your turn!

Choose me or, your prye! Be mine or you will burn!

God have mercy on her. God have mercy on me.

But she will be mine or she will burn!