‘A Ṗeadair, a Apstail, an ḃfaca tú mo ġráḋ geal?’
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)
‘Ċonnaic mé ar ball é i lár a náṁad.’
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)

‘Gaḃaiḋ i leiṫ, a ḋá Ṁuire, go gcaoiniḋ siḃ mo ġráḋ geal.’
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)
‘Céard tá le caoineaḋ againn muna gcaoinimid a ċnáṁa?’
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)

‘Cia hé an fear breaġ sin ar ċrann na páise?’
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)
‘An é naċ n-aiṫniġeann tú do Ṁac, a Ṁáṫair?’
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)

‘’S an é sin an Maicín d’iomċuir mé trí ráiṫe?
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)
Nó an é sin an Maicín do rugaḋ san stábla?
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)

Nó an é sin an Maicín do hoileaḋ i n-uċt Ṁáire?’
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)
‘Éist, a Ṁáṫair, is ná bí cráiḋte.’
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)

‘’S an é sin an casúr do ḃuail tríot na táirngní?
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)
Nó an í sin an tsleaġ do ċuaiḋ trí do lár geal?
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)

Nó an í sin an ċoróin spíonta ċuaiḋ ar do ṁullaċ áluinn?’
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)
‘Éist, a Ṁáṫair, is ná bí cráiḋte.
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)

Éist, a Ṁáṫair, is ná bí cráiḋte:
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)
Tá mná mo ċaointe le breiṫ fós, a Ṁáiṫrín.
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)

A ḃean atá ag gol, de ḃarr mo ḃáis-se
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)
Béiḋ na céadta indiu i ngáirdín Ṗárrtais!’
(M’óċón agus m’óċón ó!)

Ó ṁnaoi ar Muiġ Ċuilinn i nIar-Ċonnaċtaiḃ do ċualas Caoineaḋ Ṁuire. Máire Níc Ḟlanncaḋa dob’ ainm agus sloinneaḋ di, agus fear de ṁuinntir Ċéidiġ do ḃí mar ḟear pósta aici. Baḋ greann leat ḃeiṫ ag éisteaċt léiṫi agus í ag canaḋ an ċaointe go cuṁaċ ceolṁar. Ḃí de ṁéid a truaiġe do Ṁuire agus dá Mac gur ṡil sí na frasa deor agus í ag ráḋ na rann gurḃ’ ḟliuċ gruaḋa agus brollaċ ḋi. Ná déantar iongantas de sin, óir is minic Páis Ċríost dá caoineaḋ go deoraċ ag Geaḋealaiḃ.

Do ċuireas an Caoineaḋ i gcló san g‘Claiḋeaṁ Soluis,’ Meaḋon Fóġṁair 24, 1904. Tá cuid de ag an Craoiḃín Aoiḃinn i gCaoineaḋ na dTrí Muire i measg Aṁrán Diaḋa Ċúige Ċonnaċt. Is dóiġ liom go ḃfuil ḋá aṁrán measgṫa le n-a ċéile san gCaoineaḋ úd an Ċraoiḃín .i. Caoineaḋ Ṁuire agus aṁrán eile ar a dtugtar Páis Ṁuire. Tá Páis Ṁuire i n-a hiomlán ag Máire Níc Ḟlanncaḋa.

The Keening of Mary

‘O Peter, O Apostle, hast thou seen my bright love?’
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)
 ‘I saw Him even now in the midst of His foemen.’
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)

‘Come hither, two Marys, till ye keen my bright love.’
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)
 ‘What have we to keen unless we keen His bones?’
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)

‘Who is that stately man on the tree of passion?’
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)
‘Dost thou not know thy Son, O Mother?’
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)

‘And is that the little Son I carried nine months?
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)
And is that the little Son that was born in the stable?
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)

And is that the little Son that was nursed on Mary’s breast?’
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)
‘Hush, O Mother, and be not sorrowful!’
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)

‘And is that the hammer that struck home the nails through Thee?
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)
And is that the spear that went through Thy white side?
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)

And is that the crown of thorns that crowned Thy beauteous head?’
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)
‘Hush, O Mother, and be not sorrowful!
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)

Hush, O Mother, and be not sorrowful!
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)
The women of My keening are yet unborn, little Mother.
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)

O woman who weepest, by this My death
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)
There will be hundreds to-day in the garden of Paradise!’
(M’óchón agus m’óchón ó!)

I heard ‘The Keening of Mary’ from a woman of Moycullen, in Iar-Connacht. Her own name was Mary Clancy, and she was married, as she told me, to one of the Keadys. I have heard nothing more exquisite than her low sobbing recitative, instinct with a profoundly felt emotion. There was a great horror in her voice at ‘’S an é sin an casúr,’ etc., and with the next stanza the chant rose into a wail. She cried pitifully and struck her breast several times during the recitation. It is a very precious thing for the world that in the homes of Ireland there are still men and women who can shed tears for the sorrows of Mary and her Son.

I published the poem in An Claidheamh Soluis for October 24th, 1904. Portion of it is incorporated in ‘The Keening of the Three Marys,’ printed by Dr. Douglas Hyde in his ‘Religious Songs of Connacht.’ I think Dr. Hyde’s poem is an amalgam of ‘The Keening of Mary’ with another poem called ‘The Passion of Mary’ which I also recovered from Mary Clancy.