My soul quickly carry!
O Mary great, O Mary mild,
Of God's One Son the Mother,
What shall I do without my child,
For I have now no other.
For Thy Son's sake my son they slew,
Those murderers inhuman;
My sense and soul they slaughtered too,
I am but a crazy woman.
Yea! after that most piteous slaughter,
When my babe's life ran out like water,
The heart within my bosom hath become
A clot of blood from this day till the Doom!"





THE KEENING OF MARY

Taken down by Patrick H. Pearse from Mary Clancy of Moycullen, who
keened it with great horror in her voice, in a low sobbing recitative.


MARY. "O Peter, O Apostle, my bright Love, hast thou found him?"
"M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!"

PETER. "Even now in the midst of His foemen I found Him."
"M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!"