Famine

Long we’ve travelled, long traversed,

Spurred by famine and English curse,

What fate on Earth could ever be worse

Than to leave our fair green isle?

All the nation’s youth are gone,

They’ve succumbed to hunger, every one

They’re either dead, or have moved on,

We’ll never see them smile.

When will their faces again be seen

On native land, so fair and green?

Too long’s the time that they have been

Away across the miles.

Hearts will hunger, souls will yearn,

Fierce will Irish spirits burn,

Until to Erin they return,

If we’re patient for a while.

We’ll await withdraw of English lease,

We’ll await mercy and surcease,

And then at last there will be peace,

Upon old Erin’s Isle.

At last we’ll lift the gathering gloom

That closes lids on Irish tombs

As the travellers reclaim the womb

Of the Emerald Isle.