In 1803 we sailed out to sea

Out from the sweet town of Derry

For Australia bound

if we didn't all drown

The marks of out fetters we carried

On our rusty iron chains we cried for out weans

Our good women we left in sorrow

As the main sails unfurled, wild curses we hurled

On the English and thought of tomorrow



At the mouth of the Foyle, bid farewell to the soil

As down below deck we were lying

O'Doherty screamed woken out of a dream

By a vision of Bold Robert dying

The sun burned us cruel as we dished out the gruel

Dan O'Connor was down with a fever

Sixty 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

Taking souls to Hades by twilight

Five weeks out to sea, we were now 43

We buried our comrades each morning

In our own slime we were lost in a time

Endless night without dawning



Van Diemen's Land is the hell for a man

To spend out his whole life in slavery

Where the climate is raw and the gun makes the law

Neither wind nor rain care for bravery

Twenty years have gone by and I've ended my bond

My comrades ghosts walk behind me

A rebel I came and I'm still the same

On the cold winds of night you will find me



Oh, I wish I was back home in Derry