Written about 1835 by Frank MacNamara or Frank the Poet, a pormer convict.
One Sunday morning as I went walking, by Brisbane waters I
chanced to stray,
I heard a convict his fate bewailing, as on the sunny river bank
"I am a native of Erin's island and banished now from my
They tore me from my aged parents and from the maiden whom I do adore.
been a prisoner at Port Macquarie, at Norfolk Island and Emu Plains,
Castle Hill and cursed Toongabbie, at all those settlements I've worked
But of all places of condemnation and penal stations of New
To Moreton Bay 1 have found no equal; excessive tyranny each day prevails.
three long years I was beastly treated, and heavy irons on my leg I
back with flogging is lacerated, and often painted with my crimson gore.
many a man from downright starvation lies mouldering now underneath the
And Captain Logan he had us mangled at the triangles of Moreton Bay.
the Egyptians and the ancient Hebrews we were oppressed under Logan's
a native black lying there in ambush did deal our tyrant with his mortal
fellow prisoners, be exhilarated that all such monsters such a death may
And when from bondage we are liberated, our former sufferings shall fade from mind"