Luyện nghe bài hát Van Diemen's Land

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

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

The first day that we upon that fatal shore,
The planters gathered us, they might be twenty score,
ranked us off like 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 on the cold green grass down by your purling stream,
Oh, wondering through the maid of fair with my by the hand,
Then I awaken broken-hearted Van Dieman's Land.

years is a long long time, that is our fatal doom,
For nothing the poaching got no all that so we done,
You up dog, gun and snare and the poaching, every man
If you only knew the hardship upon Van Land.