Up until late Victorian times, it was common for the Welsh to recite the Our Father, the Creed, and the Hail Mary every day, a faint memory of their Catholic past. Up in the mountains, they also recited a sort of devotional poem called “Mary’s Dream,” which was found in all sorts of variants.
Here’s a sort of munged together verse translation of it:
Blest mother Mary, are you sleeping?
I am not, my dear Son, I’m dreaming.
Blest mother Mary, what is your dream?
They catch You and crown You with thorn, I’ve seen,
Nailed to the cross, white rod in hand.
Lied to by Satan, one blind man
Pierces your side, and Your dear blood streaming
Is wine to drink, cleansing water gleaming.
Blest mother Mary, true is the dreaming.