Explore "Bourke's Dream" by Andrew Barton Paterson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Lonely and sadly one night in November / I laid down my weary head in search of repose / On my wallet of straw, which I long shall remember, / Tired and weary I fell into a doze. / Tired from working hard / Down in the labour yard, / Night brought relief to my sad, aching brain. / Locked in my prison cell, / Surely an earthly hell, / I fell asleep and began for to dream.
I dreamt that I stood on the green fields of Erin, / In joyous meditation that victory was won. / Surrounded by comrades, no enemy fearing. / "Stand," was the cry, "every man to his gun. " / On came the Saxons then, / Fighting our Fenian men, / Soon they'll reel back from our piked volunteers. / Loud was the fight and shrill, / Wexford and Vinegar Hill, / Three cheers for Father Murphy and the bold cavaliers.