Sending to her a secret prayer,
As I lace the flowers through her hair,
Hoping that she doesn't sense my guilt,
But all I can see is the spear hilt,
Piercing her small frame,
And I know I'm to blame,
For the death of poor little Rue,
Her soul gone with the last breath she drew,
They will pay for what they have done,
Sweet Rue, I'm sorry I have to run,
Too young to die, but take care,
I hope you get this secret prayer.