The judge said, “Stand up, boy, and dry up your tears.
You're sentenced to Dartmoor for twenty-one years.”
So kiss me goodbye, babe, and say you'll be mine,
For twenty-one years, love, is a mighty long time.

Just look down that railway and there you will see, [bad word] are waving their farewell to me.
The steam from the whistle and smoke from the stack
But I know you'll be [bad word] love until I get back.

Go back to the governor, babe, on your sweet soul,
He has sent me to Dartmoor so get up that road.
For if I've got the governor then the governor's got me
But before Tuesday morning I guess I'll be free.

It's hailing, it's raining, this moon gives no light.
Oh baby, please tell me why you never write.
I'm here in this gaolhouse, my heart broken down,
I had a letter from mother in old Campton Town.

Six months have gone by, babe, and I wish I were dead
In this dirty old gaolhouse with a post for a bed.
So hold up your head, babe, and dry up your eye
Best friends must part, love, so must you and I.

I've counted the minutes, and I've counted the nights,
I've counted the hours, I've counted the lights.
And I've counted the footsteps, and I've counted the sighs,
And I've counted one million of these prison bars.

And I've counted on you, babe, to get me a break.
Well I guess you forgot me, I'm here for your sake.
You know who is guilty and know it too well,
But I'm up in this gaolhouse before I would tell. [bad word] all you young fellows with a heart brave and [bad word] 
Don't [bad word] any women, you're beat if you do.
Don't [bad word] any women, no matter what kind,
For twenty-one years, love, is a mighty long time.