• Michael Mullins
  • Michael "The Bard" Mullin
  • "The Bard of Foremass"
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    Pleasant Comrades

    I know a wee burn that sings for me
    The happiest song that e’er was heard
    Contentment, mirth, love and delight,
    Like meal in porridge through it stirred.

    It dances and laughs and leaps along
    It shines in the sun like silver bright
    And whins, with their crowns of gold stoop down
    To list to its song of pure delight.

    I know a wee thrush sits on a thorn
    That grows by the bank of my wee burn
    It is the blithest wee bard that ever
    Sang a greeting to Spring’s return.

    When tired of singing it loves to sit,
    Like me, and list’ to the burn’s sweet song:-
    The burn that never gets tired at all
    But sings the whole day and whole night long.

    Burn, bird, and bard-bard, bird and burn –
    Rush on, O World: and leave us three
    To cultivate our acquaintanceship.
    And sing our little song of glee.

    Michael Mullin

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

    (In the newspaper cutting the address is given as Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Tipperary !  This was more than likely the Cork Examiner)