The Ballad Of Bryan Mcmahon Poem by Matt Mooney

It was on the eve of Valentine
In the year of ninety eight
That the Master’s name so resonant
Was marked absent on the slate;
So delicate were the daffodils
After days of winter strife,
When the soul of Bryan Mac Mahon
Went through the Gap of Life.

So silent now the river Feale-
They had shared the sun together:
For the Master of all masters
Has called Bryan to Him forever;
Our nation maker is close to God
Whose gifts he’ll hand us down:
Like words to lips and songs to sing
In his native Kerry town.

Away he’ll send on flights of doves
Through heaven’s open door
His love by Gort a’Ghleanna
In the vale of Knockanure;
He was the master and the writer
Whose gifts he left behind:
Like pride to last in his native place
And his books to feed the mind.

He loved the Fleadh’s homecoming
And the folk who travelled far
To sing and dance in the sunny Square
Or to play in any bar;
He’d always watch the Marching Bands
As they passed with a great hurrah!
He’d stand at his door in the evening sun
To watch the mardi gras.

Our footpaths miss his noble steps:
He was a father to the town;
His greeting marked you present-
“Conas tán tú? Tán tú ann! ”
So when you’re walking down the street
Know that we’ve only got today
And sometimes stop and chat awhile
For that was Bryan’s way.