Luyện nghe bài hát Van Diemen's Land

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

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

The first day that we landed that fatal shore,
The planters gathered around us, they be twenty score,
ranked us off like horses and sold us out of hand,
They yoked us to a plough, boys, to plough Van Dieman's Land.

Often I slumber, I have a pleasant dream,
I 'm lying on the cold green grass by your purling stream,
Oh, wondering through the maid of with my sweetheart by the hand,
Then I awaken upon Van Dieman's Land.

Fourteen years is a long time, that is our fatal doom,
For more the poaching got no all that so we done,
You up dog, gun and snare and the poaching, every man
If you knew the hardship upon Van Dieman's Land.