The Harp that once through
The soul of music shed
Now hangs as mute on
Harp that once thru Tara’s halls
Poems
Gypsy, gypsy,living in a tent
I’ll bet you can put a tune to each of those skipping and street rhymes! I know I can. Many had multiple variations; my memory’s not so good that I can recall them all.
Workhouse to Hospital
This poem which was passed to us by Martin Toal was written in 1998 by Jim McParland, and was delivered by him at a 50th celebration of the National Health Service.
That celebration was held at the Mourne Country Hotel. Present were a number of people who were employed in the old Workhouse – and some who remained on the staff in that building after its integration into the NHS.
Jim McParland was one such. He wrote the following poem about his memories.
Diagonal Steam Trap [2]
Now the engineer eyed the designer
An’ the designer, he looked at ‘The Hat’
An’ they whispered, the one till the other,
‘Diagonal Steam Trap? ………….. What’s that?’
Wooden Chalices
You might suspect
that the following
epigram was
recently written.
Not so.
It’s from the
17th century!
Gold priests, wooden chalices
In Ireland of Patrick’s time
Golden chalices, wooden priests
As the wretched world stands now!
Faith in Albion
In response to recent articles and the latest thread, we received this anonymous contribution. Thought you might like it!
The Old Age Pension
The night of Sunday 6 January-Monday 7 January 1839 is remembered now, only in folklore as The Night of the Big Wind that battered all of