Notes About The Poem
picture credit - aoh.com
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
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