This is quoted by Frank Clune in his book "Wild Colonial Boys."

Old Ireland lies groaning,
A hand at her throat
By coward betrayed
And by foreigners bought,
Forget not the lessons
Our fathers have taught
Though our land's full of danger
And held by the stranger
Be brave and true!

We'll take to the hills
Like the bandits of old
When Rome was first founded
By warriors bold,
Who knew how to plunder
The rich of their gold;
A life full of danger
With Jack the bushranger -
The bold Donahue!

We've left dear pld Ireland's
Hospitable shores -
The land of the Emmetts
The Tones and the Moores.
Sweet liberty o'er us
Her scalding tear pours,
She points at the Manger
Where Christ was a stranger -
And perished for you.

You may hurl us to crome
And brand us with shame;
But you never will catch us
Our spirit to tame;
For we'll fight to the last
In Old Ireland's sweet name
And we are bushrangers
Who care not for dangers -
With Bold Donahue!

Clune, Francis; "Wild Colonial Boys," Angus & Robertson, Sydney, 1948.

I wouldn't quote Clune as an authority, but he did get around amongst people who knew this sort of stuff. It wouldn't surprise me if he remembered about two-thirds and filled in the rest himself.

I have seen the song elsewhere, though, and I seem to remember another verse that finishes:

Though I be a bushranger
You still are the stranger
And I'm Donahue!

Just can't lay my hand on it at the moment.