Eighteen hundred and eighty five Is a year I remember so well When they drove old brad into an early grave And sent my mother to jail Now I don't know what's right or wrong But they hung christ on nails But with six kids at home and two still on her breast They wouldn't even give her bail
Chorus Oh ned, you're better off dead You get no peace of mind A track's a trail And they're hot on your tail Before they're gonna hang you high I did write a letter And I sealed it with my hand Tried to tell about stringy bog creek And tried to make them understand Oh, that I didn't wanna kill kennedy Or cause his blood to run Well he alone could have saved his life By throwing down his gun
Chorus
Well I'd rather die like donahue That bush-ranger so brave Than be taken by the government And forced to walk in chains Well I'd rather fight with all my might While I have eyes to see Well I'd rather die ten thousand times Than hang from a gallow's tree.
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