This poem was submitted to the Irish Farmers Journal in May 1988 by Margaret Barry, Dunmanway, Co Cork. At the time she was feeling angry and frustrated after having to pay out £1,920 for an extra 1,600 gallons of milk quota - the farm's milk quota was only 15,000 gallons.

Is it Fair?

It's a queer daft world we live in that's for sure

With half the people starving, the other half sick and poor

The third world crying out in pain, asking for a share

Of all our vast unwanted wealth - I ask you is it fair?

We've frigates loaded to the hilt lying off our shores

Full of surplus fats and foods, end products of our chores

There's butter mountains, Bainne Lakes, milk powder everywhere

With all this good redundant food - I ask you is it fair?

But now the civil servants say, the answer has arrived

The penal quota's here to stay, but we don't feel deprived

Our milk will make more money - so we really do not care,

But those who haven't got a bite - I ask you is it fair?

And now the easy farm day's gone - gone forever more

It used to be so good to see milk yields rise and soar,

But now it's quotas all the way, you really must not dare

Improve your lot, or they'll take all - I ask you is it fair?

But I won't grouse I'd feel a louse, I'll just be honest and frank,

We've the best fed cats and dogs around with all the milk they drank,

But the quota year's begun again; now I must have their share

So it's into the tank with grateful thanks but - I ask you is it fair?