There's famine in the land, its grip is tightening still!
There's trouble, black and bitter, on every side I glance.


'An Exile's Mother'


There's famine in the land, its grip is tightening still! There's trouble, black and bitter, on every side I glance.

There's famine in the land, its grip is tightening still! There's trouble, black and bitter, on every side I glance.

There's famine in the land, its grip is tightening still! There's trouble, black and bitter, on every side I glance.

There's famine in the land, its grip is tightening still! There's trouble, black and bitter, on every side I glance.