Hard Times There was a terrible stillness and a dense blue fog over broken down fences and ubiquitous bog somehow we managed to survive the famine six of us huddled together in a five shilling cabin Michael, Thomas, Julia and dear little Mary on a tiny parcel of land in south Tipperary watching my sweet Wife Mary lay down her pretty head on piles of filthy straw that serves as our bed all that we owned was a Pig and a manure heap we did the sowing but there was nothing left to reap we depended on Potatoes to keep us alive all that was about to change in black '45 from dawn to dusk we would work hard in the field we handled the 'taint' and 'curl' but still got our yield one day Mary came in sobbing, her head in her shawl " there's nothing left Rodger, the blight's taken it all! " We appealed for help, our poverty was dire we didn't even have the wood to light a fire My friend good Mr Mitchell tried to explain our situation f