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The Irish Famine
GIVE me three grains of corn, mother,— | |
| Only three grains of corn; | |
| It will keep the little life I have | |
| Till the coming of the morn. | |
| I am dying of hunger and cold, mother,— | 5 |
| Dying of hunger and cold; | |
| And half the agony of such a death | |
| My lips have never told. | |
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| It has gnawed like a wolf, at my heart, mother,— | |
| A wolf that is fierce for blood; | 10 |
| All the livelong day, and the night beside, | |
| Gnawing for lack of food. | |
| I dreamed of bread in my sleep, mother, | |
| And the sight was heaven to see; | |
| I awoke with an eager, famishing lip, | 15 |
| But you had no bread for me. | |
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| How could I look to you, mother,— | |
| How could I look to you | |
| For bread to give to your starving boy, | |
| When you were starving too? | 20 |
| For I read the famine in your cheek, | |
| And in your eyes so wild, | |
| And I felt it in your bony hand, | |
| As you laid it on your child. | |
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| The Queen has lands and gold, mother,— | 25 |
| The Queen has lands and gold, | |
| While you are forced to your empty breast | |
| A skeleton babe to hold,— | |
| A babe that is dying of want, mother, | |
| As I am dying now, | 30 |
| With a ghastly look in its sunken eye, | |
| And famine upon its brow. | |
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| What has poor Ireland done, mother,— | |
| What has poor Ireland done, | |
| That the world looks on, and sees us starve, | 35 |
| Perishing one by one? | |
| Do the men of England care not, mother,— | |
| The great men and the high,— | |
| For the suffering sons of Erin’s isle, | |
| Whether they live or die? | 40 |
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| There is many a brave heart here, mother, | |
| Dying of want and cold, | |
| While only across the Channel, mother, | |
| Are many that roll in gold; | |
| There are rich and proud men there, mother, | 45 |
| With wondrous wealth to view, | |
| And the bread they fling to their dogs to-night | |
| Would give life to me and you. | |
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| Come nearer to my side, mother, | |
| Come nearer to my side, | 50 |
| And hold me fondly, as you held | |
| My father when he died; | |
| Quick, for I cannot see you, mother, | |
| My breath is almost gone; | |
| Mother! dear mother! ere I die, | 55 |
| Give me three grains of corn. | |
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