It’s often when in slumber I have a pleasant dream, With my sweet girl a-sitting down, all by a purling stream, Through England I’ve been roaming, with her at command, Now I awake broken hearted upon Van Dieman’s Land. God bless our wives and families, likewise that happy shore, That isle of great contentment, which we shall see no more, As for our wretched females, see them, we seldom can, There’s twenty, to one woman, upon Van Dieman’s land. There was a girl from Birmingham, Susan Summers was her name, For fourteen years transported, we all well know the same, Our planter bought her freedom, and married her out of hand, She gave to us good usage upon Van Dieman’s Land. So all you gallant poachers, give ear unto my song, It is a bit of good advice, although it is not long, Throw by your dogs and snares, for to you I speak plain, For if you knew our hardships, you would never poach again. _FAREWELL TO JUDGES AND JURIES._ HERE’S bad luck to you, Mr. Justice Paley, And also to you, Gentlemen of the Jury, For seven years, you’ve sent me from my true love, Seven years, I’m transported, you know. To go to a strange country don’t grieve me, Nor leaving old England behind, It is all for the sake of my Polly, And leaving my parents behind. There’s the Captain that is our commander, The Boatswain, and all the ship’s Crew, There is married men, too, and there’s single, Who knows what we transports do. Dear Polly, I’m going to leave you For seven long years, love, and more, But that time will appear but a moment, When return’d to the girl I adore. If ever I return from the Ocean, Stores of riches I’ll bring for my dear, It’s all for the sake of my Polly, I’ll cross the salt seas for my dear. How hard is the place of confinement, That keeps me from my heart’s delight, Cold chains and irons surround me, And a plank for my pillow at night. How often I wish that the eagle Would lend me her wings, I would fly, Then I’d fly to the arms of my Polly, And on her soft bosom, I’d lie. [Illustration] _MY BONNY BLACK BESS._ DICK TURPIN bold! Dick, hie away, Was the cry of my pals, who were startled, I guess, For the pistols were levelled, the bullets whizzed by, As I leapt on the back of Black Bess. Three Officers mounted, led forward the chase, Resolv’d in the capture to share; But I smil’d on their efforts, tho’ swift was their pace, As I urg’d on my bonny Black Mare. So when I’ve a bumper, what can I do less, Than the memory drink of my bonny Black Bess?