Famine Song - Forest

Oh the praties they grow small over here

Oh the praties they grow small over here

Oh the praties they grow small

And way up in Donegal

We eat them skins and all over here, over here

Oh I wish that we were geese, night and morn

Oh I wish that we were geese, night and morn

Oh I wish that we were geese

'Til the hour of our release

When we’d live and die in peace, stuffing corn, stuffing corn

Oh, they’ll grind us into dust over here

Oh, they’ll grind us into dust over here

Oh, they’ll grind us into dust

But the Lord in whom we trust

Will return us crumb for crust over here, over here