--
An' twelve sodgers brought him to Maryborough jail,
An' the turnkey resaved him, refusin' all bail;
The fleet limbs wor chained, an' the sthrong hands wor bound,
An' he laid down his length on the cowld prison ground.
An' the dreams of his childhood kem over him there,
As gentle an' soft as the sweet summer air;
An' happy rememberances crowding on ever,
As fast as the foam-flakes dhrift down on the river,
Bringing fresh to his heart merry days long gone by,
Till the tears gathered heavy and thick in his eye.
But the tears didn't fall, for the pride of his heart
Would not suffer _one_ drop down his pale cheek to start;
Then he sprang to his feet in the dark prison cave,
An' he swore with the fierceness that misery gave,
By the hopes of the good, an' the cause of the brave,
That when he was mouldering low in the grave
His enemies never should have it to boast
His scorn of their vengeance one moment was lost;
His bosom might bleed, but his cheek should be dhry,
For, undaunted he _lived_, and undaunted he'd _die_.
Well, as soon as a few weeks was over and gone,
The terrible day iv the thrial kem on;
There _was sich_ a crowd there was scarce room to stand,
The sodgers on guard, the dhragoons sword-in-hand.
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