In 1803 we sailed out to sea
Out from the sweet town of Derry
For Australia bound
if we didn't all drown
The marks of out fetters we carried
On our rusty iron chains we cried for out weans
Our good women we left in sorrow
As the main sails unfurled, wild curses we hurled
On the English and thought of tomorrow

At the mouth of the Foyle, bid farewell to the soil
As down below deck we were lying
O'Doherty screamed woken out of a dream
By a vision of Bold Robert dying
The sun burned us cruel as we dished out the gruel
Dan O'Connor was down with a fever
Sixty rebels today bound for Botany Bay
How many will reach their receiver?

I cursed them to hell as our bough fought the swell
Our ship danced like a moth in the firelight
White horses rode high as the devil passed by
Taking souls to Hades by twilight
Five weeks out to sea, we were now 43
We buried our comrades each morning
In our own slime we were lost in a time
Endless night without dawning

Van Diemen's Land is the hell for a man
To spend out his whole life in slavery
Where the climate is raw and the gun makes the law
Neither wind nor rain care for bravery
Twenty years have gone by and I've ended my bond
My comrades ghosts walk behind me
A rebel I came and I'm still the same
On the cold winds of night you will find me

Oh, I wish I was back home in Derry ...


Words & Music By Bobby Sands