Tekster: John Wesley Harding. The Isle of France.

Oh the sky was dark and the night advanced
When a convict came to the isle of france
And round his leg was a ringing chain
And his country was of the shamrock green

I'm from the shamrock this convict cried
That has been tossed on the ocean wide
For being unruly I do declare
I was doomed to transport these seven long years

When six of them they were up and past
I was coming home to make up the last
When the winds did blow and the seas did roar
They cast me here on this foreign shore

So then the coastguard he played a part

And with some brandy, he cheered the convict's heart
Although the night is far advanced
You shall find a friend on the isle of france

So he sent a letter all to the queen
Concerning the wreck of the shamrock green
And his freedom came by a speedy post
For the absent convict they thought was lost

God bless the coastguard this convict cried
For he's saved my life from the ocean wide
And I'll drink his health in a flowing glass
And here's success to the isle of france