One Sunday morning as I went 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's Ireland

But banished now from my native shore

They stole me from my aged parents

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 the 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 painted with my crimson gore



And many a man from downright starvation

Lies mouldering now underneath the clay

And Captain Logan he had us mangled

All 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 this tyrant with his mortal stroke



My fellow prisoners be exhilarated

That all such monsters like death may find

And when from bondage we're liberated

Our former suffering shall will fade from mind