Bold Jack Donahoe (2)
In Dublin town I was brought up, in that city of great fame.
My decent friends and parents, they will tell to you the same.
It was for the sake of five hundred pounds I was sent across the main,
For seven long years in New South Wales to wear a convict's chain.
Chorus: Then come, my hearties, we'll roam the mountains high,
Together we will plunder, together we will die.
We'll wander over valleys, and gallop over plains,
For we scorn to live in slavery, bound down in iron chains.
I'd scarce been here twelve months or more upon the Australian shore,
When I took to the highway, as I'd oft-times done before.
There was me and Jacky Underwood, and Webber and Webster, too.
These were the true associates of bold Jack Donahoe.
Now Donahoe was taken, all for a notorious crime,
And sentenced to be hanged upon the gallows-tree so high.
But when they came to Sydney gaol he left them in a stew,
And when they came to call the roll they missed bold Donahoe.
As Donahoe made his escape, to the bush he went straightway.
The people they were all afraid to travel night or day,
For every week in the newspapers there was published something new
Concerning this dauntless hero, the bold Jack Donahoe.
As Donahoe was cruising, one summer's afternoon,
Little was his notion his death was near so soon,
When Sergeant of the horse police discharged his
And called aloud to Donahoe to fight or to resign.
'Resign to you - you cowardly dog! A thing I ne'er will do,
For I'll fight this night with all my might,' cried bold Jack Donahoe.
'I'd rather roam these hills and dales, like wolf or kangaroo,
Than work one hour for government!' cried bold Jack Donahoe.
He fought six rounds with the horse police until the fatal all,
Which pierced his heart and made him start, caused Donahoe to fall.
And as he closed his mournful eyes, he bade this world dieu,
Saying, 'Convicts all, both large and small, say prayers for Donahoe!'
Comments about this poem (Bold Jack Donahoe (2) by Anonymous Oceania )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley