Ireland for the Irish Rhymes and Reasons Against Landlordism with a Preface on Fenianism and Republicanism. By W. J. Linton, Formerly of the Irish "Nation" |
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TENANT-FARMING |
 | Ireland for the Irish |  |
TENANT-FARMING
Rackrent field and rent the moor:
Such is Landlord's law, man!
“He lends God who gives the poor”—
Seems an idle saw, man!
Rob the labourer of the sod;
Say your warrant comes from God:
Dare them find a flaw, man!
Such is Landlord's law, man!
“He lends God who gives the poor”—
Seems an idle saw, man!
Rob the labourer of the sod;
Say your warrant comes from God:
Dare them find a flaw, man!
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Eat the harvest he has sown:
All in right of law, man!
Steal his bread, nor give him stone,—
Improving on the saw, man!
Curse him! when potatoes fail
Press him for a double gale:
There's in his lease a flaw, man!
All in right of law, man!
Steal his bread, nor give him stone,—
Improving on the saw, man!
Curse him! when potatoes fail
Press him for a double gale:
There's in his lease a flaw, man!
Hunt him from his naked home
With cunning dogs of law, man!
Bid him to the poor-house come,
If winter winds are raw, man!
Raze his cottage: should it stand
For an eye-sore on your land?
Yours!—Who finds a flaw? man!
With cunning dogs of law, man!
Bid him to the poor-house come,
If winter winds are raw, man!
Raze his cottage: should it stand
For an eye-sore on your land?
Yours!—Who finds a flaw? man!
If he houses in your ditch,
'Tis against the law, man!
Drive him to your neighbour's: which—
Matters not a straw, man!
Let his wife and children there
Starve and rot: what need you care
For slaves you never saw? man!
'Tis against the law, man!
Drive him to your neighbour's: which—
Matters not a straw, man!
Let his wife and children there
Starve and rot: what need you care
For slaves you never saw? man!
Feed your beasts where peasants fed:
Such is Famine's law, man!
Which would fetch you most a head?
Truth cuts like a saw, man!—
Alone, upon the bloody sod,
Thou read'st thy warrant: is't from God?
Cans't thou find a flaw? man!
Such is Famine's law, man!
Which would fetch you most a head?
Truth cuts like a saw, man!—
Alone, upon the bloody sod,
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Cans't thou find a flaw? man!
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