Derry

In 1803 we set out to sea, Out from the sweat town of Derry. We're Australia bound, if we didn't all drown, The marks of our fetter's we carried In our rusty iron chains, we cried for our way's, Our good women we left in sorrow. As the main sail unfurled our curses we hurled, At the English and thoughts of tomorrow.

From out from the foil, we bid farewell to the soil, As down below decks we were lying. Oh God! We'd scream, woken up from a dream, With a vision of old Robert's dying. Well the sun burnt as cruel as they sloped out the gruel, And O'Conner was down with the fever. Sixty convicts that day, bound for Botany Bay, How many would meet their receiver?

Well I cursed them to Hell, as our boat fought the swell, The ship danced like a moth in the firelight. White horses rode by, as the Devil passed by, Taking souls to Hades by twilight. By weeks out to sea, we were now forty three, We wept bitter like children. Oh Jesus! We shrieked, as our God we beseeched, All we heard was the prayer of the pilgrim.

Well in that demons land, it's hell for a man, To live 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 served out me bond, Me comrades ghosts right behind me. A rebel I came and a rebel remain, On the cold winds of night you will find me.