The Convict (MacEdward Leach)

A convict in his prison cell lay dying,
Spoke of home and loved ones there;
Asked his cellmates in a whisper,
Do they think my end is near?

Do they think of me in prison?
I was once their pride and joy;
Do they think of me in prison?
Do they miss their convict boy?

Oh, I long to see my sister,
Charming blithe sister Nell;
How often I have blessed her,
As I lay in my prison cell.

Have my brothers turned against me,
Since to prison I have come?
If they have, I cannot blame them,
For bad comp'ny have me done.

Take this keepsake to my mother,
It is but a lock of hair;
That is all I have to send her,
She will treasure it with care.

As he handed me the keepsake,
Sparks of light had nearly fled;
After ten long years in prison,
Now their convict boy was dead.

####.... Author unknown ....####

Collected in 1951 from Mrs Michael R (Alice) Devereaux [1890-?] of Trepassey, NL, and published in MacEdward Leach And The Songs Of Atlantic Canada © 2004 Memorial University of Newfoundland Folklore and Language Archive (MUNFLA).


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