VAN DIEMAN'S LAND.
Sung by Wm. Major.
Come all you lads of learning and rambling boys, beware.
Whenever you go a booting, bring your dogs, gun and snare ;
For those lofty hills and valleys we have at our command,
Not thinking of the last farewell, going to Van Dieman's Land.
There were three men from Galway town, Martin, Luke and James,
They were three loyal comrades, their countrymen they formed ;
And ifs there they were transported by the keepers of the strand,
And for seven long years transported, going to Van Dieman's Land.
We had a true love on board the ship, Jane Murphy was her name.
And there she was transported for carrying on the game ;
The captain fell in love with her, and married her out of hand ;
Oh : she gave us the best of treatment going to Van Dieman's Land.
This land in port we went to, was on a foreign shore,
The negroes they surrounded us, about five hundred score;
They yoked us like horses, and sold us out of hand,
They yoked us to a trace, bravely to plough on Van Dieman's Land.
The houses they built for us, were made of mud and clay,
The beds we had to lie upon, was made of rotten hay;
Oh ! rotten hay for beds, my boys, and slumber If you can;
Sure, they gave us the worst of treatment, all in Van Dieman's Land.
One night, as I lay down to sleep, I had a pleasant dream,
I dreamed that I was in old Ireland, down by a purling stream;
I dreamed I was in old Ireland, my true love at my command,
But when I awoke my heart was broke, all in Van Dieman's Land.