One Sunday morning as I went walking By Brisbane Waters I chanced to stray I heard a convict his fate bewailing As on the sunny riverbank he lay
I am a native of Erin's Ireland But banished now from my native shore They stole me from my aged parents And from the maiden whom I do adore
I've been a prisoner at Port Macquarie At Norfolk Island and Emu Plains At Castle Hill and the cursed Toongabbie At all these settlements I've been in chains
But of all places of condemnation And penal stations in New South Wales To Moreton Bay I have found no equal Excessive tyranny each day prevails
For three long years I was beastly treated And heavy irons on my legs I wore My back from flogging was lacerated And oft times painted with my crimson gore
And many a man from downright starvation Lies mouldering now underneath the clay And Captain Logan he had us mangled All On the triangles of Moreton Bay
Like the Egyptians and ancient Hebrews We were oppressed under Logan's yoke Till a native black lying there in ambush Did deal this tyrant with his mortal stroke
My fellow prisoners be exhilarated That all such monsters like death may find And when from bondage we're liberated Our former suffering shall will fade from mindTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
