Ned Kelly
Ned Kelly, born 1854
Beveridge was my town
I wasn’t born with a crown.
Irish parents I have,
Dad, a transported convict
told me, when I was a lad.
Dad, with possession of meat,
Without explanation,
Was locked up because
Of legislation.
Six months later
Dad, died,
got on the drink
His liver, he fried.
I was only 12, the oldest boy
Helping my mum
I tried to enjoy.
Mixed up with the wrong crowd
Harry Power, he was loud.
Steve Hart,
was the counterpart.
Receiving a stolen horse
Got me convicted,
Yes of course.
Named an outlaw bushranger
All in town thought, I was a danger.
Mother imprisoned,
I started my gang,
It was on, I’m going out with a bang.
Had a proud moment.
Saved a boy from drowning,
Felt like a king, without the crowning.
Received a green sash for bravery,
the only moment I felt,
I wasn’t in slavery.
Born of Irish blood
In Beveridge, Victoria
Descending into
Violence euphoria
At an early age
Notoriety was there
Arrested so young
He did not care
Stringybark Creek was the turning point
Three officers slain
Led the law to appoint
Felons Apprehension Act 1865
All outlaws
Need not be taken alive
Euroa and Jerilderie
Banks of these towns
Next in their rampage
To be taken down
The day was nearing
For this outlaw gang
As his brother Dan
Took another man down
1880, 27th of June
The gang assemble at the local saloon
Hostages taken at the Glenrowan Inn
Is it the end for these outlaws
The end of their sins
Within the Inn
The gang adorned
Armour plating
Like knights of old
Body plate and helmet strong
To learn their fete
As the night grows long
Dawn on Monday the 28th of June
From the inn he emerges, to meet his doom
Firing as he walks, bullets flying
Off his armour they bounce
His reputation dying
He survived to stand trial
The death sentence was passed
Hanged by the state
This outlaws last gasp
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