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!'
Anonymous Oceania's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Bold Jack Donahoe (2) by Anonymous Oceania )
- At accuracy, hasmukh amathalal
- Deep in, Nassy Fesharaki
- No!, Nassy Fesharaki
- Your own existence, gajanan mishra
- FLYING GLASS SHARDS, Satish Verma
- Limerick.4 - One of a Kind, Patricia Grantham
- The Snowman on the Moor, Sylvia Plath
- The Lady And The Earthenware Head, Sylvia Plath
- On The Difficulty Of Conjuring Up A Dryad, Sylvia Plath
- Memoirs Of A Spinach-Picker, Sylvia Plath
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Farewell, Anne Brontë
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- Heather Burns
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)