One Sunday morning as I went walking nBy Brisbane waters I chanced to straynI heard a prisoner his fate bewailing nAs on the sunny river bank he laynI am a native from Erin's islandnTransported now from my native shorenThey tore me from my aged parents nAnd from the maiden whom I adorennI've been a prisoner at Port MacquarienAt Norfolk Island and Emu PlainsnAt Castle Hill and cursed ToongabbienAt all those settlements I've woked in chainsnBut of all places of condemnationnAnd penal stations of New South WalesnOf Moreton Bay I have found no equalnExcessive tyranny each day prevailsnnFor three long years I was beastly treated nAnd heavy irons on my legs I worenMy back from flogging was laceratednAnd often slain with my crimson gorenAnd many a man from downright starvationnLies mouldering underneath the claynAnd Captain Logan he had us manglednAt the triangles in Moreton BaynnLike the Egyptians and ancient HebrewsnWe were oppressed under Logan's yokenTill a native black lying there in ambushnDid give our tyrant his mortal strokenMy fellow prisoners exhilaratednThat all such monsters a death shall findnAnd when from bondage we’re liberatednOur former sufferings shall fade from mindn