The Mass rocks in our lonely glens,
Like gems, they bring remembrance,
Of bygone days, when our kin,they dared,
‘Gainst tyrants ‘ swords descending.
The humble priest, in robes, addressed,
His folks, all there assembled,
And down the glen came red coated men,
They hanged the priest with vengeance.
To day, we all are free to thrive,
And attend our Mass in freedom,
No Mass rocks, hanging ropes and spies
To kill our priests and religion.
So let us cherish what we’ve got,
From ancestors brave and brilliant,
They taught us to be good and true,
To our land and to our religion.