At Saint Patrick's Purgatory

Pity me on my pilgrimage to Loch Derg!

O King of the churches and the bells

Bewailing your sores and your wounds

But not a tear can I squeeze from my eyes!

Not moisten an eye after so much sin!

Pity me, O King!

What shall I do with a heart that seeks only its own ease?

O only begotten Son by whom all men were made,

Who shunned not the death by three wounds,

Pity me on my pilgrimage to Loch Derg

And I with a heart not softer than a stone!