Ballad Of The Black '47 (Carey Ott)
12-07-11

Bided our time we bided our time
At Old Galway like birds on a line
Murmured of what life might become
For those of us poor laborers' sons

The Black 47 took Daddy to heaven
Left Mother with 3 to raise up
She somehow decided
We would have to survive
We bided our time by our luck

The winter of '50 put a chill in my bones
As we boarded the vessel in the gray before dawn
Thousands of us packed stern to the bow
Bound for New York from the Emerald Isle

The Black 47 took Daddy to heaven
Left Mother with 3 to raise up
She somehow decided
We would have to survive it
We bided our time by our luck
Bided our time by our luck

Hungry and sick can't take any more
Up to our necks as we landed ashore
Hate to our faces left wondering why
The signs in the shops say we need not apply

The Black 47 took Daddy to heaven
Mother with 3 to raise up
She somehow decided
We would have to survive
We bided our time by our luck
Bided our time by our luck

Pour me a whiskey sing me along
Your favorite verse in your favorite song
Now here we sit remember that time
When tragedy struck more than 1 out of 9

The Black 47 took Daddy to heaven
Left Mother with 3 to rise up
She somehow decided
We would have to survive it
We bonded our time by our luck
Bided our time by our luck