Build thy Lenten castle
With walls of three yards thick
With penance and with discipline
For mortar and for brick
Raise up high the battlements
Stow all thy sins of past
For bitterness and wasted years
Should break thy Lenten fast
Block the windows, seal the doors
And strip the chambers bare
Retreat lest dies cinerum
Should catch thee unaware
Then deep within, now hide thyself!
And patiently, now wait!
The muffled blows upon the door!
The devil’s at the gate!
Unfriendly eyes are watching thee
Cold fingers on thy soul
So pray thy Lenten stronghold
Though cold and grim, is whole
In forty days, as breath is drawn
As Pasch arrives again
Raise, once more, the portcullis
And face the world of men