In an old, old cabin in an old, old glen,
Lived an old, old pair of four score ten.
This old, old woman and this old, old man,
Loved this old, old glen, where their life began;
And they loved the cot, with its old clay floor,
And it old mud walls, and its old, old door.
And its old, old roof with old straw thatched,
And it old, old beds with their old quilts patched.
Round their old, old house grew old, old trees,
Which made a shade from the cold, cold breeze.

This old, old pair, in their old, old days,
Still did their work in the old, old ways.
To the old, old Faith and the old, old Tongue
Of the old, old Land, the old folk clung.
On the old clay floor the old pair knelt,
With the old, old fervour of the old, old Celt;
On the old big beads which the old Gaels loved,
The old, old fingers of the old folk moved;
Their old, old voices the old house thrilled,
And their old, old hearts with fervour filled.
Thus this old, old woman and this old, old man
Still worshipped God in the old, old plan.

When the old-age pension to the old folk came,
The old parish priest backed up their claim,
And afterwards, this good old pair
Of good old times had a good old share.
And many a time by the old, old hearth,
On their old, old knees, on the cold, cold earth,
They offered up a warm old prayer
For good Lloyd George and all his care
This old, old woman and this old, old man,
From the old, old glen where their life began,
Were borne at last to cold, cold graves –
Where cold winds blow, and green grass waves
“May we all meet in heaven” is my good old prayer,
“With the good old souls of this good old pair”

Michael Mullin, ‘THE BARD OF FOREMASS’

Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.

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Footnote: Lloyd George – brought in the old age pension