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The first time he came into the light He thought that his eyes had gone, The sun was shining, ever so bright With nothing to focus on, They led him out to sit on a rock And hacked off his ball and chain, It took a week of his ticket of leave Before he could see again. Richard Dawson, a broken man Had finally done his time, He’d spent three years in shovelling coal In the colony’s first coal mine, They said it was only his just desserts For a pocket, picked in the Strand, And sent him out on a convict ship To the hell of Van Diemen’s Land. At first they set him to breaking rocks For laying the first rough roads, He worked while tethered in iron chains That chafed his skin and his bones, He wasn’t allowed to take a rest From swinging the pick or axe, For the guards would follow the line of men And lay the whip on their backs. He lost his God and he lost his soul Or he thought that he had, out there, Where men were hung as a matter of fact And nobody seemed to care, He slaved four years with the other men But his future was looking bleak, When he hit a man who was guarding them He was sent to Saltwater Creek. If ever there was a hell on earth It was called Saltwater Creek, The devil had got in the minds of men And they formed a barbaric clique. The cells were buried, were underground, There wasn’t a spark of light, And the men were taken out of the mine When it was dark, at night. They started before the sun was up, They finished when it was gone, Were locked and chained in their pitch dark cells In a terror that just went on, And while they were buried and mining coal They’d think of the old country, While their judge sat cool in his stately robes And finished his morning tea. A man turns into a surly brute When he’s kicked and cursed, and beat, But take the sun from his daily run And his soul admits defeat. Richard Dawson, later in life At night, would take to the street, And never could quite explain to his wife The Hell of Saltwater Creek. David Lewis Paget
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Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 5:16 PM UTC
Saltwater Creek
The first time he came into the light He thought that his eyes had gone, The sun was shining, ever so bright With nothing to focus on, They led him out to sit on a rock And hacked off his ball and chain, It took a week of his ticket of leave Before he could see again. Richard Dawson, a broken man Had finally done his time, He’d spent three years in shovelling coal In the colony’s first coal mine, They said it was only his just desserts For a pocket, picked in the Strand, And sent him out on a convict ship To the hell of Van Diemen’s Land. At first they set him to breaking rocks For laying the first rough roads, He worked while tethered in iron chains That chafed his skin and his bones, He wasn’t allowed to take a rest From swinging the pick or axe, For the guards would follow the line of men And lay the whip on their backs. He lost his God and he lost his soul Or he thought that he had, out there, Where men were hung as a matter of fact And nobody seemed to care, He slaved four years with the other men But his future was looking bleak, When he hit a man who was guarding them He was sent to Saltwater Creek. If ever there was a hell on earth It was called Saltwater Creek, The devil had got in the minds of men And they formed a barbaric clique. The cells were buried, were underground, There wasn’t a spark of light, And the men were taken out of the mine When it was dark, at night. They started before the sun was up, They finished when it was gone, Were locked and chained in their pitch dark cells In a terror that just went on, And while they were buried and mining coal They’d think of the old country, While their judge sat cool in his stately robes And finished his morning tea. A man turns into a surly brute When he’s kicked and cursed, and beat, But take the sun from his daily run And his soul admits defeat. Richard Dawson, later in life At night, would take to the street, And never could quite explain to his wife The Hell of Saltwater Creek. David Lewis Paget
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Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 5:16 PM UTC
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