Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;
But wonder on, till [bad word] make all things plain.
This man is Pyramus, if you would know;
This beauteous lady Thisby is certain.

By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
Met at a tomb to woo by pale moonlight.
This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name,
The [bad word] [bad word] first by night,
Did scare away, or rather did affright...

If we offend, we've got good will,
If we are [bad word]  our measure's plain
Our [bad word] intent is your delight
It's merry, tragical and brief...
Oh Pyramus...Pyramus...loved Thisby

And as she fled, her mantle she did fall,
Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain,
 [bad word] Pyramus, sweet youth and tall,
And finds his [bad word] Thisby's mantle slain,
Da da da da da da da da da da

Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast,
Thus he died,
He died, he died,
His soul in the sky...

Now Thisby's passion ends the play in tears,
Asleep, my dear?
What, dead, my dove? Arise! 
Tongue, not a word, [bad word]  blade, my breast [bad word] 

Thus Thisby ends, adieu, adieu,
Adieu, adieu, adieu, adieu, adieu, adieu, adieu,

If we offend, we've got good will,
If we are [bad word]  our measure's plain
Our [bad word] intent is your delight
It's merry, tragical and brief...
Oh Pyramus...Pyramus...loved Thisby
Da da da da da da da da da da
Oh Pyramus...Pyramus...loved Thisby