Uploaded February 2020 | Updated September 2026, 7 hours ago
As St Patrick's Day isn't too far away, I wanted to reintroduce this original from six years ago.As my own ancestors went through the terrible times of the Irish famine, and quite a few left for the USA,.this song is quite close to my heart.
Thank you for listening
LYRICS
It was in the year of '45, that poisoned wind blew over
And Daddy worked those Autumn fields, and came home sad and sombre
His crops of strife, were blackened rot, that he'd spilt his life's blood over
And that was at the time when most of Ireland smiled no longer.
The winter chill seemed cold and long than any could remember
And the strongest, hardest fittest man, struggled weak in desperate hunger
But Mammy sang her song of hope, and plenty we might find
But the fever took her long before her dreams were brought to life
And the landlord came, and the landlord went, our empty purse did fall
And Daddy sweated tears and guts, to feed us one and all
And it was in the Spring of '46, he packed our bags,
And we headed off to Dublin docks, in sheets of shabby rags
And the fog came down, and the sails were set, as we left our homeland ground,
And other than the babies' cries we didn't hear a sound
And the waves did crash and darkness fell, as we huddled on our journey
And Daddy prayed he'd walk us all
On soil of hope and plenty
And as we reached that unknown shore, no welcome we did find,
Just dying starving, sick and tired,
Lay heavy on the ground
And as we passed the borderline,Daddy held my hand so gently
And he did pray he'd walk us all on soil of hope and plenty
Ali Hammond Original 2014
As St Patrick's Day isn't too far away, I wanted to reintroduce this original from six years ago.As my own ancestors went through the terrible times of the Irish famine, and quite a few left for the USA,.this song is quite close to my heart.
Thank you for listening
LYRICS
It was in the year of '45, that poisoned wind blew over
And Daddy worked those Autumn fields, and came home sad and sombre
His crops of strife, were blackened rot, that he'd spilt his life's blood over
And that was at the time when most of Ireland smiled no longer.
The winter chill seemed cold and long than any could remember
And the strongest, hardest fittest man, struggled weak in desperate hunger
But Mammy sang her song of hope, and plenty we might find
But the fever took her long before her dreams were brought to life
And the landlord came, and the landlord went, our empty purse did fall
And Daddy sweated tears and guts, to feed us one and all
And it was in the Spring of '46, he packed our bags,
And we headed off to Dublin docks, in sheets of shabby rags
And the fog came down, and the sails were set, as we left our homeland ground,
And other than the babies' cries we didn't hear a sound
And the waves did crash and darkness fell, as we huddled on our journey
And Daddy prayed he'd walk us all
On soil of hope and plenty
And as we reached that unknown shore, no welcome we did find,
Just dying starving, sick and tired,
Lay heavy on the ground
And as we passed the borderline,Daddy held my hand so gently
And he did pray he'd walk us all on soil of hope and plenty
Ali Hammond Original 2014
