I put this up some time ago,It was published in The Ulster Star years ago I came across the poem from an old paper clipping my sister Mary had saved.
Details of Bill Brownlee a Lisburn man who now lives in Grangemouth Stirlingshire Scotland If anyone knew him here on the forum I have his last home address,thats if he is still above ground



THE TRAMP
In a lonely part of Ireland,near the town of Mullingar
We were gathered in the evening,in a little village bar
Through the door there came a stranger,just a tramp
he seemed to be
In his face the sign of hunger,almost anyone could see
But he brought a breath of summer,as he slowly wandered in
Dressed in rags that someone gave him,and the boots
now worn so thin
Someones son my mind was thinking,someone fallen
by the way
Or perhaps a long lost father,who had seen a better day


Could i join you for a minute,just before i go my way
In a voice as sweet as music,mindful of a summer day
I have wandered o'er the moorland ,seen the rising of
the sun,And my poor old feet are weary ,lifes hard battle
must be won
To a seat i saw him totter,heard the whisper of a sigh,
Then i saw the old face brighted,with a twink.e in the eye
Lonely there he sat and listened,to the stories that were told
Someones son or father ,who had wandered from the fold


Surely there must be a story,hidden somewhere in the
breast,
Of a tramp who roams the moorland,something different
from the rest
As i made my wayto join him,something told me
he was glad
Folk around me gazed in wonder,some they even
thought me mad
Thank you sir,i heard him saying
Lonlinesscan bring a chill
Maybe i should tell a story
Though with tears my eyesthey fill
In my youth i was an artist,painted pictures by the score
Then one day i found an angel,married her in Annaghmore

I was happy with my ,sunshine came our way
And eack night we knelt together,just to meditate and pray
But a fhief he came and stle her ,took the flower I
cherished rare,
Isn,t there a god in heaven to protect a life so fair
Did you ever lose a fortune,did you lose your only friend
Did the sunshine never bless you,nor the lonely not bend
Did you ever see the finger,pointed at you all the day
Broken hearts are never mended,in this hard and cruel way

I left home with all its sadness,left the place where i
was born
Made the sky my onlt blanket,and my friend a
sundecked morn
When they told me she was dying,even after all
the years
Like a baby i was crying,finding solace in my tears
To the place where she is lying,every year i
make my way
And i place a wreath of roses, on that brown and
sacred clay
Roses plucked from out the hedgerows,but she seen
them just the same
And i know she hears me whisper,as i quietly breathe
her name

You may ask why i remember,why she's always in
my dreams
But true love is ne'er forgotten,and a fond smile
always beams
I forgave and granted pardon,even in my prayers i say
That a souls not lost to heaven,just for erring
on the way
Summer brings its gladness,and the birds
sing high above
Just to bring me consolation,an an atmosphere
of love
But a tramp in lonely exilemstill within his native land
Must keep trying,just keep trying,only god san understand

Thank you, sir, for all your goodness,i must now be on
my way
I have many miles to wander,ere i meditate and pray
God alone now brings me comfort,only he can give
me peace
Till this worldshall mark me absent,ans all worry
it shall cease
In a lonely part od Ireland,near the town of Mullingar
We were gathered in the evening ,in a little village bar,
Through the door there passed a stranger,just a tramp
he seemed to be
In his face the sign of heaven ,almost anyone could see
W B 1957

Sad poem Barney. I wonder what the history is behind Bill Brownlee. Did he have a personal tragedy of this kind? It's the kind of poem you could only write from experience of your own.