VAN DIEMAN'S LAND



Come all you gallant poachers,

That ramble void of care,

That walk out on a moonlight night

With dog and gun and snare.

By the keepers of the land, my boys,

One night we were trepanned,

And for fourteen years transported

Unto Van Dieman's land.



The first day that we landed

Upon that fateful shore,

The planters came round us,

They might be twenty scor@.

They ranked us off like horses

And sold us out of hand,

And yoked us to the plough, brave boys,

To plough Van Dieman's Land.

God bless our wives and families,

Likewise that happy shore,

That isle of sweet contentment

Which we shall see no more;

As for the wretched females,

See them we seldom can,

There are fourteen men to every woman

In Van Dieman's Land.



Oh, if I had a thousand pounds

All laid out in my hand,

I'd give it all for liberty

If that I could command;

Once more to Ireland I'd return,

And be a happy man,

And bid adieu to poaching

And to Van Dieman's Land.



Note: Banks of Newfoundland is a parody of this

@outlaw @Irish @Australia @transportation

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