Just remembered this one:

THE POACHERS Trad. Scots
Come all ye gallant sporting lads that ramble void of care
As ye rove out on a moonlit night with your dog, your gun, your snare
The harmless hare and pheasant you have at your command
Not thinking on your last career all on Van Dieman's Land

There was young Jack Brown from Glasgow town, Tom Williams and poor Joe
We were three gallant sporting boys the country well did know
One night we were trepanned by the keepers in the sand
And for fourteen years transported to Van Dieman's Land

The day on which we landed upon that fateful shore
The planters stood around us, full twenty score and more
They ranked us up like horses and sold us out of hand
They yoked us to the plough, me boys, to plough Van Dieman's land

The houses that we dwell in here are made of clod and clay
With rotten straw for bedding, we dare not say them nay
Our cots are fenced with wire and we slumber when we can
And we fight the wolves and tigers that infest Van Dieman's Land

There came a lass from sweet Dundee, Jean Stewart was her name
For fourteen years transported for the playing of the game
Our captain bought her freedom and married her off hand
And she gives us all good usage upon Van Dieman's Land

Although the poor of Scotland do labour and do toil
They're robbed of all the blessings, the produce of the soil
Your proud imperious landlord, if you break his command
He'll send you to the British hulks, or to Van Dieman's Land.

You can hear part of it here - the music samples open in a pop-up window.

Best wishes,

Bente