On foot, by bus and train and car, we come,
The needy and the sick, to Walsingham.
To Norfolk's blessed shrine, in earnest prayer,
That we might take the healing waters there.
The Holy House is lit with colours bright
From votive lamps which burn by day and night.
Our Lady's heart pierced seven times we see,
As Simeon foretold in prophecy.
The lonely Stations of The Cross we trace,
To Sepulchre, and Resurrection's place.
In Mary's hallowed field we sing and pray,
And raise our lanterns at the great "Ave".
With fellow pilgrims sharing our repast,
Exchanging travellers tales since meeting last,
Renewing friendships forged in earlier years,
Amid the laughter, love and joyous tears.
We make to leave, and say our fond goodbyes
To Mary's House, with sadness in our eyes.
With vows to meet again upon on our breath,
We bid farewell to "England's Nazareth".
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