Chaw, chaw—banish this ruin, lads;
Your grinders in motion, it’s keep them a-going, lads;
Wag, wag, wag your jaws—let them be going, lads;
Provisions must fall, now the ports are thrown open.
In Ireland and Scotland the famine has raged so,
Hundreds and thousands—old, young, middle-aged, too;
Food’s been so scarce and so dear through the nation,
That many grim death clam’d died through starvation.
But let us all hope now these hard times are ended,
Provisions come down fast, and trade be mended,