The Green Eye of
the Emerald Isle?
by Ray Fuller
Ballinspittle
is a village SW of Kinsale in County Cork,
Ireland. In July of 1985, two teenage girls
and their mother reported seeing movement of a
statue of the Virgin Mary in a grotto.
Within days of the first reports, thousands of
pilgrims visited Ballinspittle every night, some
traveling hundreds of miles. Many people claimed
that they saw the statue move in some way. The Catholic
Clergy maintained a neutral stance with
regard to the authenticity of the claims.
There’s a
village south of Cork on the road from
Kinsale town,
Ballinspittle is its name, ‘mongst
pastures green,
It was once a quiet place but is now of
great renown
Such a lot of tourist interest to be seen.
And the sight you must regard, even
though it prove quite hard,
Even if you have to trudge a hundred
miles,
Is a thing in Ballinspittle, and I know
for sure that it’ll
Make the grimmest visage break out all in
smiles.
There beneath a giant rock, in a plain
white linen smock,
With a halo of bright lights strung all
around,
Stands a statue of Our Lady, in a grotto
ever shady,
With a carpet of cut flowers spread on
the ground.
Now in nineteen-eighty-four, or was it
one year less or more,
The weirdest thing did happen by that
rock:
Several pilgrims had come there, for to
spend some time in prayer,
When strange magic they did witness with
great shock.
To the throng that has assembled, it
appeared the lady trembled,
And a moving sight it was for all to see.
For a moment they were shaken, then from
trance they did awaken
And with one mind thought a miracle it
must be.
The news it was not slow in spreading out
to every port,
‘Twas a godsend to the media of the
day,
In a superstitious folk, this thing
certain was no joke
And they flocked there in vast numbers,
sans delay.
In their thousands they came thither, for
to view the lady quiver,
Young, old, wise and not so wise took up
their station,
E’en on crutches they did hobble,
just to see the statue wobble,
For our Mary was the latest great
sensation.
Then in many another town, so as not to
be outdone,
And in sympathy no doubt if truth were
told,
More statues began hopping – could
there be to this no stopping?
What more of Mary’s antics would
unfold?
Well I’m told that for the present,
if you go to her abode,
She’s as steadfast as the rock above
her head,
That her body is so stable, see it move
you’re just not able,
And as for life in her, it’s no more
than the dead.
There’s a point at which a statue
has to say I’ve had enough,
When energy has surely all been spent,
It seems they aren’t that tough,
just not made of sterner stuff,
So the moving statues they just - came
and went. |
|
