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An Gorta Mor, the Irish Famine 1845-1852
Ireland was suffering a terrible fate People were dying at an alarming rate The potato crop failed because of the blight Little help was given now that wasn't right. The rich fed their faces with meat so lean Whilst the poor people starved now I call that obscene Their fault it was not but you let them die The horrors they suffered a grown man would cry. The greed of the landlords they showed no pity Had to make profits for their masters in the city They evicted the dying, victims of the blight How in Gods name did they sleep at night ?. Men, women and children were dropping down dead Profits before people that you could have fed You exported the grain to feed the elite Whilst the poor people of Ireland were dying at your feet. "An act of God "said Trevelyan, now that was shocking To use that as an excuse to do little or nothing You weren't alone though, Clergy said it too How simple minded you all were to think that was true. You all looked away, you all have no shame Did not do enough, found others to blame One day you'll be judged though and that is a fact And you can all tell God why you didn't act. Written on 17th November 2017
Copyright © 2024 Tom Cunningham. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs