Oh! Hasten, brave ship! Bear me speedily over
The waters, for I am returning to die
In Erin, the land which I left, a gay rover
With vigour and courage and hopes that were high.

I slaved in New York till my energy wasted
In sweat, and in yearning from year unto year;
What misery, woe, disappointments I tasted! –
My story would wring from a tyrant a tear.

Oh! hasten, good ship! – Ha! She’s gallantly cleaving
The billows, – I’ll soon see that emerald shore,
Ah, me! How I’ve changed since the time of my leaving –
Then stalwart and blooming, now withered and hoar.

But still to the Old Faith – thank God for his graces,
Howe’er I have altered, I’ve steadfastly clung;
And so thus I return to the land where my race is,
To mingle my ashes my kindred’s among.

Upon a green hill there’s a graveyard where only
The singing of birds and the breezes are heard;
‘Tis there I’ll find rest in my damp bed and lonely –
I’ll sleep softly happed ‘neath the verdurous sward.

There rests waits the         of a sad-hearted rover;
Kind robins will sing a lament o’er my grave,
Which soft dews will          and shamrock will cover:-
So hasten, brave ship, bear me over the wave.

MICHAEL MULLIN

‘THE BARD OF FOREMASS’
FOREMASS LOWER, SIXMILECROSS, CO. TYRONE