One Sunday morning as I was walking
By Brisbane Waters I chanced to stray
I heard a convict his fate bewailing
As on the sunny riverbank he lay
I am a native of Erin, Ireland
But banished now from my native shore
They stole me from my independence
And from the maiden whom I do adore
I've been a prisoner at Port Macquarie
At Norfolk Island and Emu Plains
At Castle Hill and cursed Toongabbie
At all these settlements I've been in chains
But of all places of condemnation
And penal stations in New South Wales
To Moreton Bay I have found no equal
Excessive tyranny each day prevails
For three long years I was beastly treated
And heavy irons on my legs I wore
My back from flogging was lacerated
And oft times covered with my crimson gore
And many a man from downright starvation
Lies mouldering now beneath the clay
And Captain Logan he had us mangled
On the triangles of Moreton Bay
Like the Egyptians and ancient Hebrews
We were oppressed under Logan's yoke
Till a native black lying there in ambush
Did deal our tyrant with his mortal stroke
My fellow prisoners be exhilarated
That all such monsters like death shall find
And when from bondage we're extricated
Our former suffering shall will fade from mind
One Sunday morning as I was walking
By Brisbane Waters I chanced to stray
I heard a convict his fate bewailing
As on the sunny riverbank he lay