Newcopy of verses made upon the unfortunate convicts who escaped from the transport ship
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A new Copy of Verſes made up-
on the unfortunate Convicts who
eſcaped from the Tranſport ſhip,
are now under ſentence of Death
in Exeter Caſtle, and ordered for
execution on Friday next.
COME London blades and lift to me,
I ſing of lads who were ſet free,
But now in Exeter they lay,
And ſoon their lives they'll take away.
Theſe lads from Newgate were convey'd,
And convict ſlaves were to be made,
On board the tranſport ſhip did go,
Old England left with hearts of woe.
But when they were got out to ſea,
They ſwore that ſlaves they would not be,
A bloody fight they then began,
The Captain and his men they ran.
Tom Barrat on that very day,
He there did head this deſp'rate fray,
They ſwore the Captain cropt ſhould be,
Bur Tom to this would not agree.
Bob Sideaway that flaſhy blade,
A ſtout reſiſtance there be made,
But from the crew receiv'd a ſhot,
His arm muſt loſe, hard is his lot.
Jack Ruſſel muſt not be forgot,
Who in the fray was by them ſhot,
Sore wounded on the deck he lay,
So bad he could not get away.
When they did land on Engliſh ground,
The country was alarmed round,
They many of us did retake,
Which caus'd our wretched hearts to ake.
Owen and Townſend down did come,
To ſwear to us, and fix our doom,
The Judge and Jury did us try,
When us poor lads were caſt to die.
The Judge, when Barrat he was caſt,
And death the ſentence on him paſt,
A reſpite to him then he gave,
Becauſe the Captain he did ſave.
Charles Keyling, Limpus, Cox, it's they,
With fix more lads, their lives muſt pay,
On Friday next theſe nine muſt die
At Exeter ;—Lord hear their cry !
And when the diſmal day does come,
That they muſt meet this wretched doom,
Dreſt neat, with noſegays, pale as death,
With hearts of woe reſign their breath.
So farewell to each wicked blade,
I'd have you ſtick to honeſt trade,
Leave off bad ways ere it's too late,
Leaſt you ſhould mee our wretched fare.
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