I wear a picture in my heart, no matter where I rove,
A picture reminiscent of home and peach and love,
A picture framed by hills that rise through skies of Irish blue,
A stream-divided valley – a simple rustic view.

The bloom upon the apple tree, the gold upon the gorse,
And snowy thorns in blossom by the silver watercourse;
A cailin driving cattle home presents a picture fair –
The sunshine in her dreamy eyes, and on her golded hair.

A corncrake calling in the vale to concrakes up the hills,
A cuckoo flying overhead, a skylark higher still.
A cottage peeping through the trees; turf-smoke, like banners blue;
A window where the setting sun surveys his image true.

A cottage where the roses climb against a snow-white wall.
And framed within the open door the sweetest rose of all.
I wear this picture in my heart, no matter where I rove –
A picture that reminds me of home and peace and love.

Michael Mullin ‘The Bard of Foremass’
Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co Tyrone.