Select language to translate this lyric
Come all you gallant poachers,
That ramble void of care,
That walk out on a moonlight night
With your dog and gun and snare.
The hare and lofty pheasant
You have at your command,
Never thinkin' of your last career
Upon Van Diemen's land.
Poor Jackie Brown from Nenagh town
Jack Murphy and Poor Joe
Where three determined poachers
As the country well does know
By the keepers of the land, brave boys
One night they were trepanned,
And for fourteen years transported
Unto Van Diemen's Land.
On the first day that we landed
Upon that fatal shore,
The planters gathered 'round us
They might be twenty score
They ranked us off like horses
And they sold us out of hand
And they yoked us to the plough, brave boys
For the plough Van Diemen's Land.
There was a girl from Nenagh town
Peg Brophy was her name
For fourteen years transported was
For playing off the game
But our planter bought her freedom
And he wed her out of hand
Now she gives to us good usage
Upon van Diemen's Land.
Oh, I wish I had one thousand pounds
All laid out in my hand
I'd give it all for liberty
If that I could command
And I'd return to Ireland
And I'd be a happy man
And I'd say goodbye to poaching boys
And to Van Diemen's Land
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