I'm not a poet, but everyone can have fun with poetry, so here goes:

Your music got me thinking about Ireland. After listening to the selection, I read an article about how the EU is trying to ban the cutting of peat, and how this policy affects residents of rural Ireland. Then I recalled starvation in Ireland during the potato famine. So here's my brief poem:

The Big House

Well, you know,
Those fellows in the Big House,
They say we can't
Cut peat.

I remember the time
When we couldn't
Keep our own potatoes,
They said.

Can't have heat.
Weren't allowed to eat.
How does the Big House expect us
To live?

Dedicated to my Irish mother-in-law, who used to cut peat for fuel in County Roscommon, Ireland