There’s sorrow and gloom in Glangevlin today,
It’s shrouded in grief for a son passed away,
No saintlier priest in all Ireland than he
Enshrined in our hearts shall his memory be.
Twas leafless October in the year ’25
Like a bolt from the blue grim death did arrive,
Ballinaglera’s young curate then heaved his last sigh,
And his soul took it’s flight to the mansions on high.
His kind genial pastor from God fearing Glan,
Of the loyal true hearted McGovern clan,
By grief was o’er come when no human could save,
Moneensauran’s Divine from a premature grave.
What a glorious reunion on Gods promised shore,
When he met his dear mother who went just before,
They will pray for us there and for our island of tears,
To be united in peace in the fast coming years.
Oh tis well I remember the days that are gone,
When Patrick and I oft to school strilled along,
Over Moneen’s rough road and by Atty’s old byre,
To the school on the hills taught by his noble sire.
The school on the hill with the teacher no sound,
Unmatched in our land for learning profound,
He astonished us kindly tool great interest in all
His unheeded advice oft in tears I recall.
Young Pat was ambitious and eager for knowledge,
The religious life called him, he then went to college,
Ordained in Maynooth for his native Kilmore,
The Holy Gospel to preach and God’s name to adore.
With vigour and youth, full of hope and ambition,
By the shore of Lough Allen he began his mission,
But his toil was cut short by a supreme command,
To sing in God’s Choir with the Angelic band.
Farewell faithful sagart, may the heavens today,
Be your souls habitation now and for aye,
Tis the prayer of a school mate from far o’er the sea,
Who morns you in death dear Father De Lacey.