The Irish Potato Famine 1845-1850

In Memory of close on Two Million Men, Women and Children who died

of Starvation and Disease as food and crops were being exported from Ireland under armed Guard

An GORTA MOR
The Great Hunger/Famine
As I sat beside the grave stone
In a roofless church somewhere
I heard a feint cry from beyond
A child’s voice, I could here
I stood awhile, then I said
What are you crying for
The answer, feint, so hard to hear
The words, “An Gorta Mor










I stood and watched, my heart so tense
As from the shadows, crawled
A child, so frail in ragged clothes
Some words, she feebly called
I went and knelt beside her there
“What are you crying for”
And put my ear, her words to hear
She cried “An Gorta Mor”.
















“Mary, Mary” A voice called out
And from the shadows came
A Mother knelt in sorrow
Her appearance was the same
She held the girl there in her arms
Her feet, looked bloodied, sore
I looked, in her eyes of sadness
Her words “An Gorta Mor”.

The Father stood in silence then
And put his dead son down
To take his wife unto his breast
With a scream, he cursed “The Crown”
He died then with his family
But his last words, just before
“God save Ireland from the Crown”
And “An Gorta Mor”.

B M F

May the Lord Have Mercy on Their Souls