(Capo 5. Bund)
In 1803 we sailed out to sea
D A e
out from the sweet town of Derry.
For Australia bound, if we didn't all drown,
D A e
the marks of our fetters we carried.
In our rusty iron chains, we cried for our weans,
our good woman we left in sorrow.
As the mainsails unfurled, our curses we hurled,
D A e
on the English and thoughts of tomorrow.
G D e D e
Hu, I wish, I was back home in Derry. (2x)
At the mouth of the Foyle, bid
farwell to the soil,
as down below deck's we are lyin.
O'Doherty screamed woken out of a dream
by a vision of Bold Robert dyin.
The sun burned us cruel, as we dished out the gruel.
Dan O'Connor was down with a fever.
60 rebels today, bound for Botany Bay
how many will reach their receiver.
I cursed them to hell, as our
bough fought the swell,
our ship danced like a moth in the firelight.
White horses rode high, as the devil passed by,
takin souls to Hades by twilight.
Five weeks out to sea, we were now 43,
we buried our comrades each morning.
In our own sline, we were lost in a time,
endless night without dawning.
Van Diemen's land , is a hell
for a man,
to live out his whole life in slavery.
Where the climate is raw, and the guns make the law,
neither wind nor rain care for bravery.
20 years have gone by, and I've ended my bond.
My comrades ghosts walk behind me.
A rebell I come, and I'm still the same,
on the cold winds of night you will find me.