Black 47 (for Paul Edmund Styrzelecki)-Oil & Watercolour

Oil & Watercolour

Black 47 (for Paul Edmund Styrzelecki)

In Black 47 a curse in the soil, it left a nation with no staple to boil

No pen can describe the distress by which I am surrounded
Westport has become a living hell and its people are dying around us

But we will give them Rye bread and each will eat on school days and be fed
our assistance will see them through
This Blight is the worst I have seen, driving young men to the boats bound for Australia
and the land of America

Never to return to their own native home, far away from the cries
and the rattle of the bone

We are the Relief Association, here to help a starving nation
And while rations only go so far, two hundred thousand mouths are eating

For we will give them Rye bread and each will eat on school days and be fed
our assistance will see them through
This famine gave me the fever, but my will spurs me on to stay here
until I'm done, feeding everyone

In Black 47 a curse in the soil, it left a nation with no staple to boil