• Michael Mullins
  • Michael "The Bard" Mullin
  • "The Bard of Foremass"
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    Fear says tis folly still to try
    Despair advises me to yield
    But “No surrender” I reply
    I will not quit the battlefield.

    For Hope high on the mountain top
    Serenly points towards the dawn
    And Courage whispers “Don’t give up”
    And Perseverance cried “Keep on!”

    Soul-weary plodding up the slopes
    (Far stars I glimpse thro’ mist and rain)
    Heart-heavy with frustrated hopes,
    I stumble, fall and rise again.

    Still I am master of my mind
    And of my soul I’m captain still
    My “No surrender”, on the wind
    Proclaims my progress up the hill.

    I am not yet a ship in tow
    Depending on another’s aid
    Crippled, but still I’m fit to go
    Off beaten but still undismayed.

    Fear says ‘tis vain again to try
    ‘Give up’ Despair advises me
    But “No Surrender” I reply
    A coward I will never be.

    For Hope high on her mountain top
    Smiles with the glowing smile of dawn
    And courage counsels “Don’ give up”
    Cries Pereseverence Carry on”.

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

    Fotenote by P.D:
    Those of you who are of the Bard and Jack family know that we are somewhat steadfast and those of you who know us would probably say we are THICK.  My father in this poem puts these sentiments into verse with meter and rhyming.  Its called ‘No Surrender’.

    It blew into my garden,
    A breeze soft and mild;
    It chased away the chill
    Of a winter wild;
    And the pale faced snowdrops
    Looked up and smiled.

    On the bleak hill of Age
    I was walking alone
    When a tender recollection
    From boyhood flown
    Met me: – the bleakness
    Far away was blown.

    A kindly mem’ry travels
    A long long road –
    A lift, a gift, or a smile bestowed.
    Kindness is the key
    To joy’s abode.

    MICHAEL MULLIN, ‘The Bard of Foremass’,
    Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.
    Sent 17 Feb ‘47

    Sliding along the River of Time
    As we go day by day.
    A laugh or the lilt of a merry rhyme
    Will help to brighten the way.

    But when the River is wild and rough,
    And dangerous and dark,
    Enough it seems and more than enough.
    To pilot our fragile bark.

    These are the critical times of test:
    The coward will cringe and doubt –
    But strong stout hearts will be at their best
    When all seems down and out.

    Tis easy to sing when trouble free;
    Tis easy a smile to wear;
    Tis easy an optimist to be
    When all is smooth and fair.

    But here’s to the gallant lad who goes
    With a lilt and smile along,
    When the blizzard of misfortune blows
    And everything seems wrong.

    MICHAEL MULLIN, ‘The Bard of Foremass’,
    Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.
    Sent 28 Jan ‘47