There’s one old song for which my heart still listens,
There’s one old road where still in dreams I rove,
Love wafts me back, defying time and distance
Back to the old home road and youth and love.

I hear one voice where many friends are talking,
I see one smile where many round me smile,
I walk with one where many friends are walking,
With one and with one only all the while.

I sing one song. To crooning of streams flowing,
And clean winds blowing, this one song is set,
I dream one dream, lovely as lilacs growing,
Along the road I never shall forget.

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

Wee Tom Tig was a favourite
With all his mates at school
Though he’d laugh when tripped, and grin when nipped
Tom was not just a fool.

Tom was not bright; Tom would not fight
And much he was knocked about.
If his cap or pen got lost he’d grin
And say he’d do without.

Though often switched he never mitched
And though the cruel cane
Would cloud awhile his sunny smile
‘Twould soon break out again.

At last Tom Tig grew far too big
To sit in the wee school desks
So he bade good-by with a painless sigh
To teachers and school tasks.

The old school clock ticked slower then
And the old school grimmer grew
And the sun in the sky grew dimmer when
Tom Tig bade school adieu.

For him unfurled then spread the world
And the world just then looked grand
But Tom loved home and would not roam
Far from his own townland.

He laughed at us and we laughed at him
And we all laughed together
Great fun was he but sad were we
When he reached the end of his tether.

They came to his wake from near and far
And their tears would turn a mill
But all would swear who saw him there
That Tom was smiling still.

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

We’ve songs that scare and songs that scoff
                And songs that set us sighing
Now sing us one to make us laugh
                And send waist buttons flying.

Since laughter cures a lot of ills,
                Lets laugh till our sides get sore
Laughter is cheaper and better than pills
                You buy in a chemist’s store.

We’ve tears enough in the world today
And fears enough in the offing
A whiff and a puff drive clouds away;
                Give us a dose of laughing.

Tune your harp to the skylark’s lilt
                For larks to heaven belong.
‘Tis useless crying o’er milk that’s spilt,
                Sing us a merry song.

Sing for a change a song of joy
                That turns our grief to gladness
And a sad old man to a bright young boy,
                We’re sick of songs of sadness.

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

Footnote by P.D. : –
Some philosopher once said “I think therefore I am” – in my father’s case, “He wrote therefore He was”.  These are some of the memories I have of the father I knew at home years ago and the father I renew through his poems today.