A
Tribute to “Larry
Doolan”
HIS pen was a facile pen, and his heart was
a heart of gold;
His poems were thrilling and beautiful in the happy
days of old.
Gaels beyond the ocean with loyalty hold his fame,
And here in Mayo we cherish James Wallace Melvin’s
name.
A lover of our games was he – a patriot, dreamer,
poet—
With a gradh for beauteous Granuaile in every line he
wrote.
Deep and undying was his love for our dear motherland,
Her dauntless men, her glorious faith, her language
pure and grand.
To me in golden hours gone by, ’mid a group of true
Irishmen,
’Twas a joy to read poems sweet and gay from “Larry
Doolan’s” pen.
But, alas! that pen is laid aside, and in Leigue his
grave is green,
Where the Connacht breezes softly blow and oft with
sadness caoin.
God called him to the halls above in April’s golden
glow,
When flowers bloomed in the green fields of sweet and
brave Mayo,
When skies were blue and Spring’s green cloak fell
over hill and leas,
When the blackbird and the mavis sang upon each
budding tree;
And, well he sleeps the last long sleep that shall
never dreaming bring
While his memory and his verses to the mind of each
Gael cling.
With a soul as white as the purest snow, and a heart both
warm and true,
He worked for our dear Gaelic games when there was
work to do.
He wrote, he dreamed, he sang his songs, and his
clever brain and pen
Brought hope and vigour to the hearts of athletes and
men.
May the sod rest lightly o’er you, may your memory
e’er be green,
Faithful, noble “Larry Doolan,” gifted son of
Rosaleen.
Celt
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