The Forge At The Cross Poem by Matt Mooney
The Forge At The Cross
That's the place where it stood,
That forge above Cregg Cross;
'Bob Tannian, the handyman'
Ruled within with an iron rod.
Sparks flying, sudden swearing,
To shoe the ploughman's horse;
Old arguments are overheating
And anvil sounds call the tune.
Hardy Máirtín, full of laughter,
Is worth a fortune to his father:
Wielding a hammer in harmony
With the bellows blowing strong.
I used to visit Bob and Mattie regularly on my way home from Ballymana N.S. in the early 1960's and I really felt that I could identify with Longfellow's sentiments in The Village Blacksmith. Great people -The Tannians - Enda bringing honour and glory to us with St.Thomas's in 2013
You have brought back to life the forge at the cross creating the blood, sweat and tears that was all in a days work! Love it!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/1/2024 6:32:50 PM # 1.0.0.1119
When I used to visit Bob and Mattie on my way home from Ballymana N.S. in the early 1960's I felt that I could identify with the sentiments in Longfellow's Village Blacksmith. Great family - the Tannians - Enda brought honour and glory to Kilchreest with St.Thomas's in 2013.