Tom: A
Introdução:
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Come all ye gallant poachers that ramble void of care
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That walked out on a moonlight night with your dog, your gun, your snare
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The hare and the lofty pheasant, you have at your command
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Not thinking on your last career upon Van Diemen's Land
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Poor Thomas Brown from Nenagh Town, Jack Murphy and poor Joe
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Were three determined poachers, as the county well does know
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By the keepers of the land, me boys, one night they were trepanned
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And for fourteen years transported unto Van Diemen's Land
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The first day that we landed upon that fatal shore
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The planters came around us there might be twenty score
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They ranked us off like horses and they sold us out of hand
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And they yoked us to the plough, brave boys, to plough Van Diemen's Land
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The cottages we live in are built with sods of clay
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We have rotten straw for bedding, but we dare not say them nay
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Our cots we fence with wire and we slumber when we can
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To keep the wolves and tigers from us in Van Diemen's Land
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Oft times when I do slumber, I have a pleasant dream
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With my sweetheart sitting near me, close by a purling stream
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I am roaming through old Ireland with my true love by the hand
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But awaken, broken hearted, upon Van Diemen's Land
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Oh, if I had a thousand pounds, all laid out in my hand
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I'd give it all for liberty, if that I could command
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Again to Ireland I'd return and I'd be a happy man
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And I'd bid farewell to poaching and to Van Diemen's Land
OUTRO: (## fade to end ##)