Come all you gallant poachers, That ramble void of care, That walk out on a moonlight night With your dog and gun and snare. The hare and lofty pheasant You have at your command, Never thinkin' of your last career Upon Van Diemen's land. Poor Jackie Brown from Nenagh town Jack Murphy and Poor Joe Where three determined poachers As the country well does know By the keepers of the land, brave boys One night they were trepanned, And for fourteen years transported Unto Van Diemen's Land. On the first day that we landed Upon that fatal shore, The planters gathered 'round us They might be twenty score They ranked us off like horses And they sold us out of hand And they yoked us to the plough, brave boys For the plough Van Diemen's Land. There was a girl from Nenagh town Peg Brophy was her name For fourteen years transported was For playing off the game But our planter bought her freedom And he wed her out of hand Now she gives to us good usage Upon van Diemen's Land. Oh, I wish I had one thousand pounds All laid out in my hand I'd give it all for liberty If that I could command And I'd return to Ireland And I'd be a happy man And I'd say goodbye to poaching boys And to Van Diemen's Land