In eighteen-o-three 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 [bad word] iron chains we cried for our weans
Our good women we left in sorrow
As the main sails unfurled, our curses we hurled
On the English and thoughts of tomorrow

At the mouth of the Foyle, bade farewell to the soil
As down below decks we were lying
O'Doherty screamed, woken out of a dream
By a vision of bold Robert dying

The sun burnt [bad word] as we dished out the [bad word] Dan O'Conner was down with a fever
Sixty rebels today, bound for Botany Bay
How many will reach their receiver

Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry
Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry

I cursed them to [bad word] 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 sea, we were now forty-three
We buried [bad word] each morning
In our own slime we were lost in the time
Endless night without dawning

Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry
Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry

Van Diemen's Land is a [bad word] for a man
To end out his whole life in slavery
Where the climate is raw and a gun makes the law
Neither wind nor rain care for bravery

Twenty years have gone by, I have ended my bond
 [bad word]  ghosts walk beside me
rebel I came, I'm still the same
On the cold winds of night you will find me

Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry
Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry