It was in the year 1819
The darkest year that had ever been
Billie Watts was a pauper scrounging for scraps
But the law was a torture and he took the raps
No one would buy his nice clay pipes
And the crops all died and he reverted to type
They never saw him for the good man he could be
Oh but if they did would they ever have stopped him being free
Well they're doing the same thing now to you and me
the establishment would like to keep us under lock and key
Than allow a free spirit to live in the air
Oh yes he stole a pigeon, they didn't care
He stole a piece of muslin, they barely lifted a hair
And then they saw him as a troublemaker
And transported him down there
He stole a pigeon, and they threw him in prison
Down in a cell he stewed
Down there to Tasmania and Van Diemen's land
Where only the hardest men and women can stand
And if you weren't hard before they made you that way
Because you had to survive or dig your own grave
Oh can you see over the prison walls?
You're building a new country but a prison for your souls
And if you could own a single plot of what you bring under control
Well could you see the sunset before the darkness falls
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