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Alexander Pearce, you won’t know the name 
And you’ll gag when you find out his claim to fame
He was sent to Australia for steeling some shoes
According to Ireland’s 1819 crime news
Ended up in Port Author but got out on bail
Drunk and disorderly so it’s back into jail
Recalcitrant convicts were sent then to an isle
Just west of Tasmania in lieu of a trial
Escape from Tasmanian prison he did
Eight escapees in the wilderness hid
They fought to survive with no water or food
Leaving eight ruthless guys in a murderess mood
So they made a pact, these desperate guys
To use as a meal, the next guy that dies
And wouldn’t you know it, when it got down to two
Alexander Pearce knew just what he had to do
In a battle of wits and an axe in his hand
Alexander Pearce was the last standing man
He ate what he could and appeared healthy, well fed
When he was captured and to Port Author led
Although he confessed and told them the truth 
He went right back to prison, they needed some proof
Ninety days later, he escaped once again
With a guy named Cox who he found couldn’t swim
So there by the river Cox met his fate
And Alex, poor guy, had some more on his plate
So when he was caught (this is where you might gag)
They found human flesh in his shoulder pack bag
He said hang me now for I can’t resist	
The taste of man’s flesh from ankle to wrist
So they granted his wish and they hung the young lad
The story is true, the story is sad
He was young, he was poor, and he paid his dues
All of this from a poor kid needing shoes

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