• Michael Mullins
  • Michael "The Bard" Mullin
  • "The Bard of Foremass"
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    Thoughts by an old ruin

    Stones, corner stones, this old home’s bones
    All else has gone to rot.
    We too are dust, must turn to dust
    Like it or like it not.

    These trees grow on, the house has gone
    Twas older than old men.
    But older still yon nearby hill
    And this vale and this glen.

    Thrones have their day, they pass away
    And mighty empires fall
    Capitals flourish, capitals perish
    The same fate waits them all.

    The moon may cease to mirror light
    The sun grow dark on high
    And countless stars that shine at night
    Grow dim, or fall, or die.

    Yet deathless souls shall never die
    Though souls from bodies sever
    And God who made the earth and sky
    That God shall reign for ever.

    As rolls this changing world along
    On it’s appointed course
    Lets hope and pray each change may be
    For better not for worse.

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

    Footnote by P.D. – dated 7th October 1971 – in his 86th year.  He would probably have known the people who lived there.  In a letter his grandson Patrick said he remembered him writing this poem. It was Patricks wish that this web site be set up.