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Van Dieman's Land Come all you gallant poachers, That ramble void of care, That walk out on a moonlight night With dog and gun and snare. By the keepers of the land, my boys, One night we were trepanned, And for fourteen years transported Unto Van Dieman's land. The first day that we landed Upon that fateful shore, The planters came round us, They might be twenty score. They ranked us off like horses And sold us out of hand, And yoked us to the plough, brave boys, To plough Van Dieman's Land. God bless our wives and families, Likewise that happy shore, That isle of sweet contentment Which we shall see no more; As for the wretched females, See them we seldom can, There are fourteen men to every woman In Van Dieman's Land. Oh, if I had a thousand pounds All laid out in my hand, I'd give it all for liberty If that I could command; Once more to Ireland I'd return, And be a happy man, And bid adieu to poaching And to Van Dieman's Land. Note: Banks of Newfoundland is a parody of this DT #426 Laws L18 RG
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!