Black 47

From the ports of a cold Irish coast they sail away in ships full of ghosts

Down the holes they choked for breath to sit and stare in the face of death

The docks were filled with stock and trade bound for England where fortunes are made

The coffin ships loaded up in the night to spare a certain and horrible sight

A slew of vague excuses given for the tragedy of Black 47

The years were quiet a sail in the wind beyond the ports a famine settled in

The cries were drowned in the news of the day a million fell down and died in the hay

Well the boats kept filling with the shells of their own cast away on the high seas to roam