Pretty little pansies!
With your velvet bonnets on,
Nodding to and fro.
Dreamy little fairies,
What are you think of?
What do you know?

Pretty little pansies!
I am not a flower still
I would love to know
Tender poet fancies,
Through your wise and solemn heads,
That come and go.

Pretty little pansies!
You are dreams of loveliness,
Ah, but Death has no
Pity for you, pansies!
Pretty though you be, alas!
Down, down you go

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