The sight of new potatoes turned my head
To hell with ready meals
We’ll have some spuds instead
My mother’s words now echoing in my mind
A meal without potato isn’t kind
Gammon and maple syrup would be nice
And green spring cabbage
Ready in a trice
A proper meal not some processed thing
A glass of wine
I’m getting in the swing
And so come home
To soda bread and tea
A fresh new tablecloth laid out
For this new me
And sitting down I watch a film I find
About the Irish Famine so unkind
How different now
From generations gone
From those who fled from Ireland
Or died while on the run
Fleeing destitution hunger and disease
Here am I in comfort
Sitting at my ease
I heard that Fearnley Whittingstall
On radio yesterday
Talking about school
Our learning and our play
Reading writing arithmetic
Studying a book
All very well but really
We should teach children how to cook
And today that new potato
Smiling up at me
Reminded me of mammy
And of her wisdom free
Always have a potato
Then you’ve had a meal
And remember those who have no food
To forget them is to steal
Brian Fahy
8 December 2021
Erris Poetry 