Saint Jerome, My Baby Tames Lions

We're going under the mountain to tame the lion in his sleep.
O my dear look toward his keep, to cull the wicked from the
meek.
Look to the West my dear, turn from the East when comforts
have decreased.
When comforts do decease, look to your lover half naked in
the water.
(His macbre mood staged in the summer)

Tex don't break your teeth gnawing on your sullen sleeve.
The Midwest ain't ever gonna break your sleep.
All the horses trotting couldn't call the wicked from the deep.
But my baby tames a lion...

Caution caution: ignorance begot your beauty.
There is no duty in the city, It's moaning and whirling and
wrapping you in bad arms.