Young hearts born with grief Will pay the penalty of truth A season of stolen youth Shall teach old hearts to break
It feels like I've been here before Here to where the animals lay down to die So we stood alone on a distant store Our broken spirits in rags and tatters
Nerve and muscle, heart and brains Lost to Ireland, lost in vain Pause and you can almost hear The sounds echo down through the ages The creak of the burial cart Here in humiliation and sorrow Not mixed with indignation One is driven to exclaim Oh god, that bread should be so dear And human flesh so cheap[*]
Young hearts are born with such grief We have paid the penalty of truth A season of our stolen youth Shall teach our hearts to break
Lyrics: A.A. Nemtheanga Music: MacUilliam and Primordial
[*Taken from a memorial to the dead at a mass grave in Skibereen, Co. Cork]
["Between the years 1845 and 1849 a famine ravaged Ireland and over 3 million people were lost to a combination of starvation and emigration I said once before the history of my land is a litany of tragedy and blood, these four years represent possibly the greatest tragedy the country has endured. It still hangs over Ireland and set the tone for Irish people to leave Ireland shores to the present day. The coffin ships themselves were what the ships that set sail for America in search of a new and better life were called. It's with this song we honour the memory of this great tragedy and those poor souls who lost their lives."]