Black potatoes are made ??by our neighbors to spread us,
sent in the poorhouse them and back across the seas,
in the Mountain Cemetery are hundreds of them subversion,
a nobility of heaven to be part goats.

God of Glory, the answer we bear,
untie our nglasa and ready our case,
on the life of your heart again that we gcasair
is the poorhouse that past leagair center.

If given the perverse sin came between us this step,
Open your hearts and Refuse spite of,
Let drops of your fhíorsprid again to our gcneasaithe,
is smooth and gentlemen of heaven that our case.

The poor have this in Ireland dealing with the misery,
Grief and distress the pains of death,
children are shouting at poor screadanaíl every morning,
Hungry long without getting anything.

It is not God ever thought this work,
Poor people to cold and wandering,
is to be in the poorhouse to depression locked
Having betrayed poor God has not ever to wealth but síorobair them from age to death.

King of the Lamb Whitechurch Pity blessed,
redeemed on the misery rehearing in distress,
Do not stray from you the poor soul
is brilliant and you bought it in the Passion.

King of Glory will still respond,
and the powerful Virgin humbly being taken in,
will be the twelve apostles making them friendship,
That store is not spent to the Judgment Day.

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