[From Manxiana, 1870]


Preaching at Marown new church,
I went to see St. Trinion's Chapel — little distance off.
In a secluded dell the chapel lies,
A catholic ruin of the olden time ;
Gothic in form — each window simply arched
With two curved stones — like two hands meeting, said:
" Oh, touch me not, for centuries I've prayed,
My hands thus folded, to the passers by,
To harm me not". Altar and cross are gone;
No vesper bell — no clap or kielan sound,
To call the worshippers to join in prayer.
Time was when kindred churches' merry round
Chimed catholic music, and the daily prayer
Was offered daily to St. Trinion's God,
On every mountain top and hallowed glen,
And all Marown was one in Catholic faith.
Built east and west, as was the Church's plan,
In line with the horizon point, on day
Of dedication to the saint.
Built by vow. made in hurricane at sea,
But never finished ; for tradition says,
When near complete, all but the covering roof,
A buggane, evil spirit, with loud laugh,
Would in a minute toss it to the ground.
Seeing this, a pious tailor tried
His skill. In the open chancel sat,
And said he'd make a pair of breeches ere
Buggane again could work. Buggane's frightful head
Rose silent from the earth, and murderous said,
" Dost see my head, and eyes, and teeth?"
Then rising up through the enchanted ground,
" Dost see my body, head, and frightful nails`? "
" Hee, hee," said Tim the Tailor, and sew'd on,
In horrid fear, while perspiration drops
Stood on his forehead, mantled pale with fright.
Buggane, still raising limb by limb, from the ground,
Said, " See my large limbs — huge feet and long." —
Ere the last word was finish'd — the last stitch
Finished the breeches, and jump'd out of church,
Just as the roof fell in with echoing crash.
Loud laughed the buggane, and before him Tim
In terror ran. Looking behind he saw
The buggane near him with extended jaws,
Fearful as crocodile, to snap him up,
And swallow him alive, a horrid death;
Thus, to escape, he leaped on holy ground,
And then the buggane threw his head at him,
When, like a bomb-shell, it exploded loud,
But hurt not Tim, but left St Trinion's church
Roofless, as at the present day 'tis seen.


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HTML Transcription © F.Coakley , 2002