Modern times | IMGpapers 1980

Uncorrected machine reading. This text was read by machine (Apple Vision OCR) from a scan of a newspaper page, and the page was cut into articles by machine, at the headlines found by their type size. Nothing has been corrected: expect misread words, text from a neighbouring article, and titles that are the machine reading of the headline, some of them only fragments. Quote from the scan, not from this page.
How this article was cut and titled: headline found by type size in the OCR geometry (split_tabloid.py); 4-5 of 7; machine-segmented newspaper page; uncorrected Vision OCR.

page 9 of the scan

In the civilised year of 'seventy-nine, In modern times little children die They starve to death, but who dares ask why? And little girls without attire, Run screaming, napalmed, through the night fire. And while fat dictators sit upon their thrones, Young children bury their parents' bones, And secret police in the dead of night, Electrocute the naked women out of sight. In the gutter lies the black man, dead, And where the oil flows blackest, the street runs red, And there was He who was born and came to be, But lived and died without liberty.

As the bureaucrats, speculators and presidents alike, Pin on their dirty, stinking, happy smiles tonight, The lonely prisoner will cry out froi within his tomb, And tomorrow's wretch will leave its mother's womb!

MB RTD E Fredenburgh Various Sinn Fein POW department, Total Total so far

page 10 of the scan

Challenge Letter

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But when I look around, all I see, Is modern torture, pain, and hypocrisy.

taken from The Writings of Bobby Sands. 5 Blessington St, Dublin. Price 60p. Poem and story by Bobby Sands, published by