Luyện nghe bài hát Van Diemen's Land

Come all you gallant poachers who void of care,
Who wander out on a moonlit night your dog, your gun and snare,
The and lofty pheasant you have at your command,
Not thinking of your long career spend on Van land.

Poor Thomas Brown from Nenagh town, John and Poor Joe,
Where three determined poachers, the country well know,
By the keepers of the land, one night, at last were trepanned,
And for fourteen years transported Van Dieman's Land.

The day that we landed upon that fatal shore,
The planters gathered us, they might be twenty score,
They ranked us off horses and sold us out of hand,
They yoked us to a plough, brave boys, to plough Van Land.

Often when I slumber, I a pleasant dream,
I 'm lying on the cold green down by your purling stream,
Oh, wondering through the maid of fair with my by the hand,
Then I awaken broken-hearted upon Van Land.

Fourteen years is a long long time, that is our doom,
For nothing more the got no all that so we done,
You give up dog, gun and and the poaching, every man
If you knew the hardship upon Van Dieman's Land.