MARIAN SYMPHONY NO. 17 / by Joseph Castorino

A Poem about St. Patrick

You’re a stout lad from the big Scottish isle,

A future bishop without any guile;

Kidnappers took you away from your home,

Across a sea that rippled with white foam;

In Ireland you were made a poor slave,

Life was rough, though you tried hard to be brave;

You drew close to God and He set you free,

At last with your eyes your homeland you see;

You return to Ireland so smart, so wise,

And clearly reveal all the devil’s lies;

You pray “Christ on my left, Christ on my right,”

And you help the Irish find the true Light.