MARY. "Come hither, ye two Marys, and my bright love be keening."
"M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!"

THE TWO MARYS. "If His body be not with us, sure our keene had little
meaning."
"M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!"

MARY. "Who is yonder stately Man on the Tree His passion showing?"
"M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!"

CHRIST. "O Mother, thine own son, can it be thou art not knowing."
"M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!"

MARY. "And is that the little son whom nine months I was bearing?"
"M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!"
"And is that the little son in the stall I was caring?
And is that the little son this Mary's breast was draining?"
"M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!"

CHRIST. "Hush thee, hush thee, Mother, and be not so complaining."

MARY. "And is this the very hammer that struck the sharp nails thro' thee?"
"M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!"
"And this the very spear that thy white side pierced and slew thee?"
"M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!"
"And is that the crown of thorns that thy beauteous head is caging?"
"M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!"

CHRIST. "Hush, Mother, for my sake thy sorrow be assuaging."
"M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!"