In 1803 we sailed out to sea,
Out from the sweet town of Derry.
For Australia bound,
if we didn't all drown,
And the marks of our fetters we carried.
In our rusty iron chains we sighed for our veins,
Our good women we left in sorrow.
As the main sails unfurled,
our curses we hurled,
Of the English and thoughts of tomorrow.
At
the mouth of the foil, bid farewell to the soil,
As down below decks we were lying.
O dirty scream,
woken out of a dream,
By a vision of bald Robert dying.
The sun burned cruel as we dished out the gruel,
Don O'Connor was down with a fever.
Sixty rebels today bound for Botany Bay,
How many will meet their receiver?
Oh,
how I wish I was back home in Derry!
Oh,
how I wish I was back home in Derry!
I cursed them to hell as her ball 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 forty-three.
We buried our comrades each morning.
Oh, in our own slime we were lost in a time
Of endless night without dawning.
Oh,
how I wish I was back home in Derry!
Oh,
how I wish I was back home in Derry!
And demons' land is a hell for a man,
To live 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,
I've ended my bond,
My comrades' ghosts walk behind me.
A rebel I came,
but I'm still the same,
On the cold winter's night you will find me.
Oh,
how I wish I was back home in Derry!
Oh,
how I wish I was back home in Derry!
Oh,
how I wish I was back home in Derry!
Oh,
how I wish I was back home in Derry!