One Sunday morning as I went walking
By Brisbane waters I chanced to stray
I heard a prisoner his fate bewailing
As on the sunny river bank he lay
I am a native from Erin's island
Transported now from my native shore
They tore me from my aged parents
And from the maiden whom I adore

I've been a prisoner at Port Macquarie
At Norfolk Island and Emu Plains
At Castle Hill and cursed Toongabbie
At all those settlements I've woked in chains
But of all places of condemnation
And penal stations of New South Wales
Of 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 often slain with my crimson gore
And many a man from downright starvation
Lies mouldering underneath the clay
And Captain Logan he had us mangled
At the triangles in Moreton Bay

Like the Egyptians and ancient Hebrews
We were oppressed under Logan's yoke
Till a native black lying there in ambush
Did give our tyrant his mortal stroke
My fellow prisoners exhilarated
That all such monsters a death shall find
And when from bondage we're liberated
Our former sufferings shall fade from mind