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The Perfect Holocaust, A Ballad of Ireland’s Great Hunger (An Gorta Mór)

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The Perfect Holocaust — A Ballad of Ireland’s Great Hunger (An Gorta Mór) This is not a famine song. This is a cry from the soil. “The Perfect Holocaust” is a modern Irish protest ballad rooted in the Great Hunger of 1845–1852 — a catastrophe that reshaped the Irish identity forever. The common schoolbook line calls it “the potato famine.” The real history is harsher. Ireland during those years was exporting grain, beef, butter, and provisions at industrial scale, while entire parishes starved. This ballad points directly to that contradiction — that the land was productive, yet the people were dying. In this piece, the music is built around uilleann pipes, low whistle, fiddle laments, and the relentless pulse of the bodhrán. The sound is intentionally stark — not romanticised, not softened — because the story demands uncomfortable honesty. The ballad names the policy makers and the ideology behind them. Trevelyan’s famous belief that starvation was “a moral lesson” echoes through t...

The Great Hunger by Lady Jane Wilde, (A Poem About Those Who Perished During An Górta Mór)

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The Famine Year – Lady Jane Wilde’s cry from the grave of a starving nation “The Famine Year” remains one of the most important poetic documents of Irish suffering, anger, and historical truth. Written by Lady Jane Wilde — mother of Oscar Wilde, and known in her own right as a fierce nationalist, a radical intellectual, and a woman who risked her position in society to speak for the poor — this poem is not simply literature. It is testimony. A direct accusation. A written scream from the shores of a nation left to die. When we talk about the Great Famine (1845–1852) in general terms, we often hear cold language: crop failure, blight, emigration, poverty, “famine conditions.” But Lady Wilde strips away the polite terms. She removes the veil. In “The Famine Year,” she writes from inside the wound. This is a poem written as the horror unfolded — not as history, not from academic distance, not with comfortable hindsight. Lady Wilde stood in the middle of a country where mothers buried th...