The Irish Boy

   
          
It was 1840 and potatoes failed,          
The English printed postage stamps          
While bison roamed the prairies.          
We couldn’t afford the  boat fare          
Came here to build canals          
Then they needed railways          
So we lived in camps and heather,          
Tin huts, tents and barking dogs.          
Railways soon were finished          
Canals silted up .         
We were no longer wanted          
So they sent us all down here.          
Called it Hungate since the Vikings          
Wet, beside the Foss, but free,          
Bin here since Great Grand Dad          
Our women scorned (except at night)          
I go to school, play in the streets          
Overcoat across the bed          
Head to tail, we try to sleep.  
          
Charley Jones has a pencil box          
Laughs, the way I talk and says I smell.          
Why don’t I go to Ireland and          
Take the blight back with me?.          
I will do one day, you see          
We’ll all go,         
Just for now, I’ll try to sleep          
Listening to Mam and Dad.