Now when soft airs of spring are blowing down
Into our happy vale from the south west,
Now when the green whin wears its golden crown,
And the lea fields with fairest flow’rs are drest.

Pleasant it is to walk our fields among,
And note the progress of the growing crops;
While birds are singing, and the sun is strong,
And smoke is curling from the chimney tops.

While harping winds make a sad soothing sound,
And child-like rills are laughing at our feet,
While sun and shadow race along the ground,
Like joy pursuing sorrow – O! ‘tis sweet,

Pleasant it is to us who till these fields
To feel we are in partnership with God,
Who now gives early promise of fair yields
To compensate for industry bestowed.

MICHAEL MULLIN ‘The Bard of Foremass’
Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.

Help me O Lord! to lead an honest life –
A holy rather than a happy one
Protect my little children, bless my wife,
And give me strength for tasks yet to be done.

To till these fields where my sires laboured long;
To hold the farm they handed down to me;
(They loved it with love permanent and strong,
And dear to my heart it will ever be).

To labour ‘mid the freshness of the fields;
With comrade birds and butterflies and flowers;
To do my part, trusting to Thee for yields.
Help me O Lord! through the long working hours.

To toil with spade or hoe or scythe or plough;
To plant the little seeds in ready loam;
To feel the cool breeze on my sweating brow; –
And when the work’s all done, to hear Thy “Come”.

MICHAEL MULLIN ‘The Bard of Foremass’
Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.

You are wondering why I love them,
Love the Foremass fields;
You believe you’ve looked on fairer,
Richer, greener, neater, squarer
Fields that give the tillers of them
Bigger, better yields:
So you wonder why I love them –
Love the Foremass fields.

Ah!  they’ve grown on me since childhood
         Dearer day by day.
All their streams are silver seeming,
All their ponds are brooches gleaming,
And the winds in fence and wildwood
Fairy music play;
Ah!  they’ve grown on me since childhood
Dearer day by day.

Always fair, they are entrancing
Decked by Spring I vow;
Bridal robes for hawthorn hedges,
Gold for all their gorsy edges,
Flow’rs in all the breezes dancing
Blossom, bird, and bough,
Always fair, they are entrancing
Decked by Spring I vow.

 Love to Foremass fields I offer,
Disregarding yields,
Though the people are not wealthy
They are honest, kind and healthy;
And each lass deserves a lover
‘Mong the Foremass fields,
Love to Foremass fields I offer,
Disregarding yields.

MICHAEL MULLIN ‘The Bard of Foremass’
Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.