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| BACK HOME IN DERRY | |
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| 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 our fetters we carried, | |
| In rusty iron chains we cried for our wains, | |
| Our good women we left in sorrow, | |
| As the mainsails unfurled our curses we hurled, | |
| On the English and thoughts of tomorrow. | |
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| 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 they dished out the gruel, | |
| Dan O'Connor was down with a fever, | |
| Fifty rebels today bound for Botany Bay, | |
| How many would reach their receiver. | |
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| Oh, oh, oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry, | |
| Oh, oh, oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry. | |
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| I cursed them to Hell as our bow 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 see we were now forty three, | |
| We buried our commrades each morning, | |
| In our own slime we were lost in the time, | |
| Endless night without dawning. | |
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| Van Diemans land is a hell for a man, | |
| To end up his whole life in slavery, | |
| Where the climate is raw, the gun makes the law, | |
| Neither wind nor rain cares for bravery, | |
| Twenty years have gone by, now I've ended my bond, | |
| My comrades ghost walk behind me, | |
| A rebel I came, I'm still the same, | |
| On the cold winds of night you will find me. | |
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| Music & Lyrics by Sands & Moore - B.A.L. Music. | |
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