Michael "The Bard" Mullin

Poems

Patrick Dan (PD) Mullin “The Bard”

5^th March 2022

Michael The Bard’s son Patrick Dan Mullin, passed away suddenly in Dublin aged 92.

Patrick Dan was the driving force behind the publication of Michael’s poems. PD showed huge pride and honour when speaking of his father’s work and his stories and tales were always wonderful to hear.

With his passing brings the end of an incredible generation of “The Bards”.

It was an honour to have known and worked alongside this inspirational man.

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam

In Memoriam

We mourn the great departed:
We mourn our chieftain gone:
That Star hath set in Eirinn
That long o’er Eirinn shone.

The four sad winds of Eirinn
Carry the wail afar,
From the sad hearts in Eirinn
To where our exiles are.

God sent that Star to guide us
On to His blest abode:
While many a smooth road lured us
From the rough, narrow road.

God spared us long that Lighthouse
Above the billows dark,
When hidden rocks and tempests
Threatened the struggling bark.

His good and great achievement
Have fashioned, high and broad
A pyramid ascending
From Eirinn up to God.

No need for us to praise him
To him earth’s praise was dross
No need for us to mourn him:
But, oh: we mourn our loss.

A Star hath set in Eirinn:
Still darkling on we grope:
Lo! a new Star in heaven
Filling our hearts with hope.

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

Verse 4 – bark or barque – a ship
Verse 6 – dross – refuse – of no value

Cissie “The Bard” Mullin, Michael’s daughter in law passed away 23rd June 2021.

She had a great devotion to the Sacred Heart.

May God have mercy on her gentle Soul.

O Sacred Heart of Jesus

‘Tis a simple little prayer
And it isn’t hard to say
You can say it anywhere,
In the night or in the day;
And the oftener you say it
The better you shall be;
‘Tis “Sacred Heart of Jesus
I place my trust in Thee.”
It makes your crosses lighter,
It softens every pain
It makes your soul grow whiter
Until the crown you gain.
‘Twill grow to be your sweetest song
On air or land or sea
“Sacred Heart of Jesus
I place my trust in Thee.”

The old year

The Old Year dies to-night. With glee to-morrow
We’ll see the New Year rise.
But now we feel no joy; for we in sorrow
Watch while the Old Year dies.

Trees with uplifted arms, like priests, are praying
For the departing one.
Sadly the breeze on sylvan harps is playing
For him whose race is run.

We think of all the friends the year took from us;
Of friends he sent our way;
Of resolution kept, of broken promise:-
We sigh and try to pray.

He carried us along ‘mid pains and pleasures;
Laden with gifts was he.
Tonight we mourn inestimable treasures
Squandered most recklessly.

The glad, the sad, the dear old year is dying.
In vain our sighs and tears.
Oceans of teardrops, centuries of sighing
Will not bring back dead years.

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

Poems in Category , , A Bit of Broken Delph, A brave lad, A Bunch of Heather, A Dozen Wee Ducks, A Dream, A Dream of Home, A Failte to Foremass, A Fairy Field, A Farmer’s prayer, A Farmer’s reverie, A Field of Beauty, A glimpse through Erin’s past, A Happy Valley, A Harvest Eve in Foremass, A jolly Ploughman, A Little While, A Love Song, A Neglected Melody, A Nice Day In February, A Picture, A Ploughman’s Picture House, A Prayer for Mary, A Reverie, A Robin sang, A sigh for Foremass, A Sigh for Foremass, A Summer Eve In Tirowen, A Sweet Retreat, A turfman’s musing, A Walk and a Wish, A wee peat posy, A Wee Wee Poem, A Wise wee cat, A Wise Wee River, A Wreath of Shamrocks, A-Cartin turf, All For Mary, All Souls Night, An Autumn Scene, An Exile’s Homecoming, An Exile’s Recollections, An Irish Whin Bush, An Old Man’s Prayer, An Old, Old Pair, An Untitled Poem from late 1960/Early 1970s, April, April, At the corn sowing, At The Cutting of The Peat, At The Stacking of The Corn, Autumn Musings, Autumn Musings, Back to the bog, Beech Leaves, Blame me not if I’m unworthy, Blessed Oliver Plunket, Both of us dream, Brian, Brian and Maire, Brigid’s Day, By A Foremass Fireside, By A New-Made Grave, By A Pleasant Riverside, Cardinal Macrory, Carting home the turf, Cloughfin River, Cushla Machree, Cutting the peat, Danny Aroon, Dear Irish Breeze, Death of an August Day, Deceived, Dermot, Do Not Wait Till Christmas, Doing the Stations of the Cross, Easter 1916, Exile Dream, Farewell To Foremass, Feast of The Assumption, Flying, Fond Memories, Foremass Braes, Four Wee Ducks, Glennanffrin, Grave Thoughts, Green Fields, Greeting The Exiles, Had I The Muse’s Art Divine, Hail Mary Full of Grace, Harvesting, He Knelt by a Grave, Heaven on Earth, Hi for the hills, I Love, I Sing, I take a stroll, I walk among my stooks, In April, In Foremass in Tyrone, In Memoriam, In memory of Joan Duggan (nee Mullin), Michael’s daughter. Died 5th March 2017 in Daisy Hill Hospital Newry. Rest in peace, In Springtime, In the bog, In the boglands, In The Doorway of her Cottage, Johnny, Joy comes with Spring, Joy Comes With Spring, June, Kathaleen, Kindness, Knockmanny, Lament of The Rose of Knockmanny, Lines To A Thrush, Lines to Mary, Little Things of Grace, Looking Back, Looking back, Loud Roars The Breeze, Love In A Cot, Loves Petition, Mary, Mary Machree, Maureen Asthore, Memories of May, Mountain hiking, Mountain musings, My Favourite Stream, My God is Not A Distant God, My Monitor, My Native Stream, My Rosary Beads, Near A Hill-Top, New Year, No Surrender, Noreen of Shane, November Dead, O Foremass Mine, O Little River, O Sacred Heart of Jesus, O! Cruel Fate, O, Teach Me, Blackbird, Of The Sacred Heart of Jesus, On Altamuskin, On Altamuskin Brae, On Christmas Day, On the Mountain, One Bower, Only a few more hills to climb, Optional, Patrick Dan (PD) Mullin “The Bard”, Pleasant Comrades, Ploughing in the Foremass fields, Ploughin’, Porridge, Remembering, Remembering, Rustic Charms, Sacred Heart of Jesus, Sad Songs are the Songs for Me, September Days, Sing Us A Song of Joy, Sing us a song of joy, Song of a Foremass Farmer, Song of the grey-beards, Spring In My Garden, St. Bride, St. Brigid’s Day, St. Brigid’s Day, The Bog Road, The Bogwind, The brown bogs of Ireland, The Brown Bogs of Ireland, The critical times, The Daisy, The eve of June, The Farmer among his stooks, The Foremass fields, The hills for me, The Holy Year, The Hopeful Bachelor, The key of happiness, The Magpie’s Song, The Masterpiece, The May in Ireland, The noble men who died, The Northern Blackwater, The Old Altar in Altamuskin, The old and new, The Old Home Road, The old year, The Ould Clocker, The Owenbrack, The Ploughman, The Poet to the Farmer, The Poet to the Farmer, The Roads of Tyrone, The rushing gale, The Secret, The Sleepy Valley in July, The song of the plough, The Song That Soothes My Heart, The Turfman’s song, The Vale, The Valley of The Telephone, The Wood In Autumn, There’s a High Hill in Tyrone, This is an unpublished and untitled peice – probably a first draft and undated post 1950, Thomas Davis, Thomas Davis, Thoughts by an old ruin, To Autumn, To Mullaghcairn, To My Brother, To My Brother, To My Youth’s Comrade, To Pansies, To Please My Love, To The Queen of October, To the river Erne, To The Sacred Heart, To welcome May, Tom Tig, Turf smoke, Untitled piece 1947, Untitled Poem/Handwritten, Waiting for the Bogtime, Weary winds asleep, Wee Burn, Welcome Home, What Makes Me Love My Mary, When Apple Trees Bloom, When carting home the peat, When Spring comes to Foremass, When the Heather blooms, While Ploughing in Spring, Whin Bushes, With Her Besom In Her Hand, Your Love, ‘tis Springtime now in Ireland, ‘twill soon be Spring in Ireland, ‘twill soon be Spring in Uladh,

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