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POOR NED Eighteen-hundred and seventy-eight was the year I rember so well. They put my father in an early grave and slung my mother in gaol. Now I don't know what's right or wrong But they hung Christ on nails. Six kids at home and two still on the breast They wouldn't even give us bail. chp: Poor Ned, you're better off dead. At least you'll get some peace of mind. You're out on the track, They're right on your back, Boy, they're gonna hang you high. You know I wrote a letter 'bout Stringy Bark Creek So they would understand That I might be a bushranger But I'm not a murdering man. I didn't want to shoot Kennedy Or that copper Lonnigan. He alone could have saved his life By throwing down his gun. You know they took Ned Kelly And they hung him in the Melbourne Gaol. He fought so very bravely Dressed in iron mail. And no man single handed Can hope to break the bars. There's a thousand like Ned Kelly Who'll hoist the flag of stars. @Australian @outlaw filename[ POORNED KX OCT98 |
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