Many readers don’t read the comments posted here. Anonymous commentator and poet, Hoof Hearted (like me, he is a postulant of William McGonagall) was inspired by an old black and white photograph in Stella …
“Inspired by the endearing image of Barmeath (those tartan trousers are absolutely smashing) I have penned a few lines…………..
In the ancient east of Ireland,
Where the salty air you breathe,
Stands an ostentatious castle;
The noble seat of Barmeath.
Untouched by coach loads of tourists,
Saved from hoteliers plans profane,
Those Anglo-Norman Bellews
In their castellated towers remain.
Once a staunchly Catholic family
From Popish ways willfully withdrew.
Yet their Roman past preserved them
From being burnt out in twenty-two.
The current Lord of the Manor
Happily retains the status quo.
He trots out with The Louth a hunting:
A true country gent; tally ho!
His life a devotion to service
Executed with diligent care,
For, early on a Lords Day morning
He departs to conduct Morning Prayer.
Now he preaches a pithy sermon,
(Three minutes on salvation from sin)
Though he hasn’t gone through ordination-
Remaining diocesan ‘whipper in’!
If you wish to meet his acquaintance,
In the library he is sure to be,
Decked out in red corduroy trousers,
Placidly sipping a large G & T.
Of fictional dramas he’s author;
Imagination creatively stirred.
Yet the lines between droll fact and fiction
Often appear decidedly blurred.
Bru potters around in the gardens
Considering where best to plant that tree.
An Irish ‘Capability’ Bellew,
Skilfully assisted by Rosemary.
Lord B is a most rounded fellow,
And Barmeath his number one love.
Perhaps a trifle high minded?
Well – ‘tout d’en haut’: everything from above.”