Of every sacred tale he talked;
Alone he dwelt, in prayer he knelt;
“Ave Maria, Ave Maria!”
From dawn till dusk he sang.
His bruised and blistered feet were bare;
His head burned in the sunlight’s glare.
On stones he slept, and worked and wept,
“Ave Maria, Ave Maria!”
In every blow or pang.
Out of his dole he clothed the poor,