The version I sing on my "A Liverpool Folk Song a Week" seems to be pretty much the version that MacColl sings, as given above - just with a different lady fair and an extra verse. The source I took it from is Hugill's Shanties of the Seven Seas, and of course we know that Hugill and Lloyd and MacColl were in communication, so they probably share the source (for those inclined, insert speculation about Lloyd's tendencies to 'adapt' here!)

Anyway, Hugill gives his source as "T.W. Jones of Liverpool".

And of course, as has already been said, there are definitely broadside prefigurations of this song, in some places word for word with just the places changed.

http://aliverpoolfolksongaweek.blogspot.com/2011/05/7-van-diemens-land.html

According to Hugill, the last verse says "I dreamt I was in Liverpool, way back in Marybone"; Marybone is indeed a place Liverpool (L3, to be precise, now full of student accomodation). It gets a mention in a few songs (e.g. it's also in some versions of The Cruise of the Calibar).

I don't have the book to hand, but this is how Hugill's version goes if I recall correctly (or, if you're a glutton for punishment you can click the link above to hear me singing it):


Van Diemen's Land

You rambling lads of Liverpool, I'll have yiz be aware
It's when you go a-hunting with your dog, your gun and your snare
Watch out for them bold gamekeepers, boys, keep your dog at your command
And think on all them hardships going to Van Diemen's Land

We had to Irish lads on board, Micky Murphy and Paddy Malone
And they were both the truest friends that a man could ever own
But the gamekeeper, he caught them boys, and from England's old strand
They were seven years transported for to plough Van Diemen's Land

We had a lady fair on board, Bridget Riley was her name
And she was sent from Liverpool for a-playing of the game
Now the captain, he fell in love with her, and he married her out of hand
And she gave us all good usage, boys, going to Van Diemen's Land

The moment that we landed there upon that fatal shore
The planters they inspected us, some fifty score or more
Then they marched us off like cattle, and they sold us out of hand
And they put us to the yoke, me boys, for to plough Van Diemen's Land

As I lay in me bunk one night, a dreaming all alone
I dreamt I was in Liverpool, way back in Marybone
With me own true love beside me, and a jug of ale in me hand
Then awoke so brokenhearted lying on Van Diemen's Land