Anderson's Coast

Words and music by John Warner © 8/5/93
Recorded on CD Pithead in the Fern

Now Bass Strait roars, like a great mill race,
And where are you, me Annie?
And the same moon shines, on this lonely place,
As shone one night, on me Annie's face.

Chorus:
But Annie dear, don't wait for me,
I fear I shall not return to thee;
There's naught to do, but endure my fate,
And watch the moon, the lonely moon,
Light the breakers, on wild Bass Strait.

We stole a vessel and all her gear,
And where are you, me Annie?
And from Van Dieman's we north did steer,
'Till Bass Strait's wild waves, wrecked us here.

(Chorus)

We fled the lash and the chafing chain.
And where are you, me Annie?
We fled hard labour and brutal pain,
And here we are, and here remain.

(Chorus)

We hail no ship though the time it drags,
And where are you, me Annie?
Our chain gang walk and government rags
All mark us down as Van Dieman's lags.

(Chorus)

And somewhere west Port Melbourne lies,
And where are you, me Annie?
Through swamps infested with snakes and flies,
The fool who walks there, he surely dies.
(Chorus)

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Original Lyrics by John Warner © 8/5/93
Recorded on Pithead in the Fern © 1994
by Margaret Walters and John Warner with Taliesin

Anderson's Coast

Old Bass Strait roars like some great millrace,
And where are you, my Annie?
And the same moon shines on this lonely place,
As shone one day on my Annie's face.

But Annie, dear, don't wait for me,
I fear I shall not return to thee,
There's nought to do but endure my fate,
And watch the moon, the lonely moon
Light the breakers on wild Bass Strait.

We stole a vessel and all her gear,
And where are you, my Annie?
And from Van Dieman's we north did steer,
Till Bass Strait's wild waves wrecked us here.

A mile inland as our path was laid
And where are you, my Annie?
We found a government stockade
Long deserted but stoutly made.

And somewhere west, Port Melbourne lies,
And where are you, my Annie?
Through swamps infested with snakes and flies,
The fool who walks there, he surely dies.

We hail no ships though the time, it drags,
And where are you, my Annie?
Our chain gang walk and our government rags
All mark us out as Van Dieman's lags.

We fled the lash and the chafing chain,
And where are you, my Annie?
We fled hard labour and brutal pain,
And here we are, and here remain.

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