The Prisoner - David McWilliams

The Prisoner - David McWilliams
I am a poor prisoner
Arrested and tried
For a crime I committed
And the law I defied
In hunger I stole
Some lords bread and wine
Was sat on his table
That his household might dine
I was held by his bondsman
As I left by the gate
Saying stand or I shoot
On your head your own fate
You have robbed of my master
His wine and his bread
And the fruit of your folly
Be on your own head
I was hungry I cried
And what harm did I do
For your master has more
Than he ever will use
And I have no money
Like he has to hand
Condemned by the law
They have stolen my land
He listened in silence
But he paid me no heed
And no point in my pleading
Would he ever concede
So before judge and jury
To pay for my crime
And to hope in their wisdom
Some pity they'd find
The judge found me guilty
In all points of law
And vile implications
From my case did draw
He called me a rebel
And then did conclude
He sentenced me
Seven long years servitude
And now I'm a prisoner
Though I know not why
In royal detention
Till the queens peace I buy
But no more I'll be told
I'm unbonded and free
And when I am discharged
A rebel I'll be