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The judge said stand up, lad, and dry up your tears,
You're sentenced to prison for twenty-one years;
So dry up your tears, love, and kiss me goodbye,
The best friends must part, love, so must you and I.
I hear the train coming, she'll be here at nine,
To take me to Dartmoor to serve out my time;
I looked down the railway and plainly I see,
You're standing there waving your good-bye to me.
Six months have gone by, love, I wish I were dead,
This dark dreary dungeon with stones for my bed;
It's raining, it's hailing, the moon gives no light,
Why don't you tell me, love, why you never write.
I've watched and I've waited and longed for the day,
The night time's so lonely my hair's turning grey;
My thoughts are of you, love, I'm out of my mind,
For twenty-one years, love, is a mighty long time.
Yes, twenty-one years, love, is a mighty long time.
A variant was recorded by Ryan's Fancy (Newfoundland Drinking Songs, ©1973, Audat Records; Curragh's Minstrels, Rocks And Whiskey, ©1971, Gunn Records).
