The Great Hunger

In 1845
The blight came tearing at potato fields
Black as night potatoes withered
Dying never more to yield
Confiscated wheat and barley
Left the shore to cross the sea
Leaving nothing for the people
But tides of pain and misery

In 1846
Oppression flooded right across the land
Sweeping poverty, the tyrant
Crushing with his ruling hand
Those who could not pay evicted
Thrown out to the ways and lanes
Hunger like a rive flowing
Through the valleys and the plains

In early 1847
Coffin boats they start to sail
Leaving Sligo overcrowded
Destined for America
Destitute they left the mainland
Dreaming of their destiny
Many of them died like vermin
Buried in the deep cold sea

In 1848
The sky was blacker than was ever seen
Hanging low above the country
Dealing out her blackest queen
Food was plenty for the gentry
Fever raging through the fold
Hoping that the coming winter
Burn the demon from the ground

In 1849
More than two million people dead or gone
Diseased and starving homeless people
Doing their best to carry on
Voices calling through the country
Come and change your destiny
Dreaming of the flower so pretty
The purple white on fields of green