A little bird displaying a red breast
Pays a visit to our small garden-
Whether the visitor is the same on each
Occasion I am not sure but it appears to be
Seeking food and from the instance of
Arrival it observes what appears to be all
From our garden wall to the house wall.
Followed by the initiation of chirping and
Twittering as if to enter a conversation
Or perhaps an expression of opposition
To my presence. Thus, relating to its
Arrival a few questions but answers
Are limited although I look forward
To the visiting red breast…
Incidentally, during early childhood I became
Fascinated with wild-life and the robin along
With the blackbird shared the centre of my interest.
And during this ripening period of life I observed
And retained a part of local folklore relating to the
Wee robin.
The latter implied that from the reality of
Evolution the robin, both male and female, did
Not have a red colour on its breast. Insisting that
During the Crucifixion of Our Lord, Jesus, a male
Robin landed at the foot of the cross and as it pecked
Around blood from Jesus dropped and coloured it’s
Breast. Thus the beginning of an evolutionary change.
Whatever ones response to the latter maybe, however,
I find this aspect of folklore quite interesting and upon
Visits of robin to our garden I recall and am reminded
Of the presence of Our Saviour, Jesus. The latter being
An appreciation of Jesus for offering his life
For us upon the high mount of Calvary.
Oh robin, robin, robin, Jesus is our friend
And while we daily walk with him there is
No need to be afraid if you visit our garden
And sing from the top of the old black bin
For I assure you that it is filled with rubbish
And not one aspect of sin.
Rate this poem:(0.00 / 0 votes)

Liam Ó Comain

An Irish poet now living in Derry City but originally from Limavady in County Derry in the north of the Island. more…

All Liam Ó Comain poems | Liam Ó Comain Books

FAVORITE (6 fans)


Find a translation for this poem in other languages:

Select another language:

  • - Select -
  • Chinese - Simplified 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
  • Chinese - Traditional 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
  • Spanish Español (Spanish)
  • Japanese 日本語 (Japanese)
  • Portuguese Português (Portuguese)
  • German Deutsch (German)
  • Arabic العربية (Arabic)
  • French Français (French)
  • Russian Русский (Russian)
  • Kannada ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
  • Korean 한국어 (Korean)
  • Hebrew עברית (Hebrew)
  • Ukrainian Український (Ukrainian)
  • Urdu اردو (Urdu)
  • Hungarian Magyar (Hungarian)
  • Hindi मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
  • Indonesian Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Italian Italiano (Italian)
  • Tamil தமிழ் (Tamil)
  • Turkish Türkçe (Turkish)
  • Telugu తెలుగు (Telugu)
  • Thai ภาษาไทย (Thai)
  • Vietnamese Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
  • Czech Čeština (Czech)
  • Polish Polski (Polish)
  • Indonesian Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Romanian Românește (Romanian)
  • Dutch Nederlands (Dutch)
  • Greek Ελληνικά (Greek)
  • Latin Latinum (Latin)
  • Swedish Svenska (Swedish)
  • Danish Dansk (Danish)
  • Finnish Suomi (Finnish)
  • Persian فارسی (Persian)
  • Yiddish ייִדיש (Yiddish)
  • Armenian հայերեն (Armenian)
  • Norwegian Norsk (Norwegian)
  • English English (English)

Discuss this Liam Ó Comain poem with the community:


Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:


"A LOVELY PART OF FOLKLORE" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 21 Jul 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/45914/a-lovely-part-of-folklore>.

We need you!

Help us build the largest poetry community and poems collection on the web!

Thanks for your vote! We truly appreciate your support.