Tonalidad: B minor•
Verse 1
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A
Bm
A
Now come all you wild and wicked youths,
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wheresoever you may be
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I pray now pay at tention
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and listen unto me
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D
The fatal awful transports as
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Bm
you shall under stand
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The hardships they do undergo upon
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Bm
Van Diemon's Land.
Verse 2
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My parents reared me tenderly,
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good learning they give to me
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'Til all my bad companions
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beguiled my home from me
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I was brought up in Worcestershire,
D
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near to the town did dwell
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my name is Henry Abbott,
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Bm
and many knows me well.
Verse 3
Bm
Me and three more went out one
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night to Squire Daniel's farm
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To get some game was our intent
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as the night come falling down
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But to our sad misfortune,
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they took us there with speed
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They sent us off to Warwick jail
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which made our hearts to bleed.
Verse 4
Bm
It was at the March assizes,
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at the bar we did ap pear
Like Job we stood with patience
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to hear our sentence there
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And being some old offenders,
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it made our case go hard
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Our sentence were for fourteen years,
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and we were sent on board.
Verse 5
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The ship that bore us from the land,
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the Speedwell was her name
And for four months and a half we
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plowed across the raging main
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No land or harbor could we see,
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and believe it is no lie
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For around us one black water
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and above us one blue sky.
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Verse 6
A
I oft- times look behind me to
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Bm
wards my native shore
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And that cottage of contentment
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that I shall see no more
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Likewise my aged father,
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F#m
who tore his hoary hair
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A
Also my tender mother
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whose arms once did me bear.
Verse 7
Bm
It was on the fourth of July,
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the day we made the land
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At four o'clock we went on shore,
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all chain and hand in hand
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And to see our fellow sufferers,
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I fear I can't tell how
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Some chained unto a harrow,
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and some unto a plow.
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Verse 8
A
So we were marched in to the town
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without no more delay
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And there a gentleman took me,
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a bookkeeper for to be
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I took my occupation,
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my master likes me well
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A
My joys are out of measure,
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I'm sure no one can tell.
Bm
Verse 9
He kept a female servant,
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Rosanna was her name
For fourteen years a convict,
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from Worcestershire she came
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We oft- times tell our love tales there where
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we are so far from home
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For now we're rattling of our
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chains in foreign lands to roam.
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