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.