Anderson’s Coast

Old Bass Strait roars like a great mill race
And where are you, my Annie?
And the same moon shines on this distant place
As shone that night on my Annie’s face.

And Annie dear, don’t wait for me,
I fear I’ll never return to thee.
There’s naught to do but endure my fate
And watch the moon, the lonely moon,
Light the breakers of wild Bass Strait.

We stole a vessel and all her gear
    And where are you, my Annie?
And from Van Diemen’s north did steer
Till Bass Strait’s wild waves, they wrecked us here.

A mile inland as our path was laid
    And where are you, my Annie?
We found a government stockade,
Long, long deserted, but stoutly made.

And somewhere’s west port Melbourne lies
    And where are you, my Annie?
Through swamps infested with snakes and flies
And the fool who walks there, the fool he dies.

We hail no ships, though time it drags,
    And where are you, my Annie?
For our chain gang roll and government rags,
They mark us out as Van Diemen’s lags.

We fled the lash and the chafing chain,
    And where are you, my Annie?
We fled starvation and brutal pain,
But here we are, and here remain.

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