Salve Regina, mater misericordiae:
vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve.
(Hail, Holy Queen, Mother of Mercy,
our Life, our Sweetness, and our Hope.)
She was new to the land,
sitting hungry and weak
Saint Michael’s Sunday Mass,
nestled under the El.
Ad te clamamus exsules filii Hevae.
(To Thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve.)
She looked up to Mary
for some sort of a sign,
of how her life would be
in this land of the free.
Ad te suspiramus, gementes
et flentes in hac lacrimarum valle.
(To Thee do we send up our sighs mourning
and weeping in this valley of tears.)
She prayed to the statue.
It moved and it pointed,
it smiled and winked its eye.
The child fell to the floor.
Eia, ergo, advocata nostra,
illos tuos misericordes oculos ad nos converte.
(Turn then, most gracious Advocate,
Thine Eyes of Mercy towards us,)
A strong man lifted her,
she wasn’t too heavy,
she’d had no food for days.
He took her to the priest.
Et Iesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui,
nobis post hoc exsilium ostende.
(and after this our exile show us the
Blessed Fruit of thy Womb, Jesus.)
The child tried to explain,
tell the priest what happened.
The priest gave her breakfast,
blessed her and sent her home.
O clemens, O pia, O dulcis Virgo Maria.
(O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary.)
The Virgin picked her out,
had chosen her for what?
Given her a sly wink,
and she didn’t know why.
Ora pro nobis, sancta Dei Genetrix.
Ut digni efficiamur promissionibus Christi.
(Pray for us O Holy Mother of God
That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.)
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