From Barefoot the Bootless
Old Bass Strait roars like some great millrace,
And where are you, my Annie?
And the same moon shines on this lonely place,
As shone one day on my Annie’s face.
But Annie, dear, don’t wait for me,
I fear I shall not return to thee,
There’s nought to do but endure my fate,
And watch the moon, the lonely moon
Light the breakers on wild Bass Strait.
We stole a vessel and all her gear,
And from Van Dieman’s we north did steer,
Till Bass Strait’s wild waves wrecked us here.
A mile inland as our path was laid
We found a government stockade
Long deserted but stoutly made
And somewhere west, Port Melbourne lies,
Through swamps infested with snakes and flies,
The fool who walks there, he surely dies.
We hail no ships though the time, it drags,
Our chain gang walk and our government rags
All mark us out as Van Dieman’s lags.
We fled the lash and the chafing chain,
We fled hard labor and brutal pain,
And here we are, and here remain.