• Michael Mullins
  • Michael "The Bard" Mullin
  • "The Bard of Foremass"
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    A WILD and lonely place
    Was Glennanaffrin.
    Blest with a special grace
    Is Glennanaffrin:
    There Holy Mass was said
    In the dark days and dread,
    When priests and people prayed
    In Glennanaffrin.

    There was no man-made church
    In Glennanaffrin;
    No sacristy, no porch,
    In Glennanaffrin:
    No roof to arch it o’er;
    No windows, walls or floor;
    A church without a door,
    Was Glennanaffrin.

    They knelt at Holy Mass
    In Glennanaffrin.
    On “knee-stones” on the grass,
    In Glennanaffrin.
    No bell called them to prayer;
    No heating system there;
    They came Christ’s Cross to share
    In Glennanaffrin.

    Those times, those crowds have gone
    From Glennanaffrin.
    Still the wee burn flows on
    By Glennanaffrin.
    For God they lived, and died.
    The despot they defied,
    No wonder we still pride
    In Glennanaffrin.


    (This was unusual to have his name signed in Irish)

    Book of poems – typed by Dr. Peter Gormley – The Old Altar in Altamuskin