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Our homage in May

The month of our fathers

To the memory of fell Remus

Slain in contention

His spirit was grieved

To demand a rite of honor

In the dead of the night

The head of home purifies

Black beans cast with averted sight

And chants nine times

These I cast, with these beans I redeem me and mine

Ghost of my fathers, go forth

A hand outstretched

With thumb barred over

Fingers two and three

Glut on beans

The clashing of brass

Does cause the spirits flee

In the dead of the night

The head of home purifies

Black beans cast with averted sight

Thus completes the annual rite