Your anonymous benefactor left out verse 2.

At the mouth of the Foyle, bade fareweel to the soil
As down below decks we were lyin',
O'Doherty screamed woken out of a dream
By a vision of bold Robert dyin',
The sun burnt cruel as we dished out the gruel,
Dan O'Connor was down with a fever,
Sixty rebels today bound for Botany Bay,
How many will reach their receiver?