Back Home in Derry

(música de Bobby Sands - sim, o icónico hungerstriker que morreu!)

In eighteen-o-three we sailed out to sea

Out from the sweet town of Derry
For Australia bound, if we didn't all drown
The marks of our fetters we carried

In our rusty iron chains we cried for our weans
Our good women we left in sorrow
As the main sails unfurled, our curses we hurled
On the English and thoughts of tomorrow

At the mouth of the Foyle, bade farewell to the soil
As down below decks we were lying
O'Doherty screamed, woken out of a dream
By a vision of bold Robert dying

The sun burnt cruel as we dished out the gruel
Dan O'Conner was down with a fever
Sixty rebels today, bound for Botany Bay
How many will reach their receiver

Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry
Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry

I cursed them to hell as our bow fought the swell
Our ship danced like a moth in the firelight
White horses rode high as the devil passed by
Taking souls to Hades by twilight

Five weeks out to sea, we were now forty-three
We buried our comrades each morning
In our own slime we were lost in the time
Endless night without dawning

Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry
Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry

Van Diemen's Land is a hell for a man
To end out his whole life in slavery
Where the climate is raw and a gun makes the law
Neither wind nor rain care for bravery

Twenty years have gone by, I have ended my bond
My comrades' ghosts walk beside me
A rebel I came, I'm still the same
On the cold winds of night you will find me

Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry
Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry