Poor Ned, you're better off dead
At least you'll get some peace of mind
You're out on the track
They're right on your back
Boy they're ‘gonna hang you high
Eighteen hundred and seventy eight
Was the year I remember so well
They put my father in an early grave
Slung my mother in gaol
Now I don't know what's right or wrong
But they hung Christ on nails
Six kids at home and two still on the breast
They wouldn't even give her bail
Poor Ned, you're better off dead
At least you'll get some peace of mind
You're out on the track
They're right on your back
Boy, they're ‘gonna hang you high
You know I wrote a letter
'Bout Stringy-Bark Creek
So they would understand
That I might be a bushranger
But I'm not a murdering man
I didn't want to shoot Kennedy
Or that copper Lonnigan
He alone could have saved his life
By throwing down his gun
Poor Ned, you're better off dead
At least you'll get some peace of mind
You're out on the track
They're right on your back
Boy, they're ‘gonna hang you high
You know they took Ned Kelly
And they hung him in the Melbourne gaol
He fought so very bravely
Dressed in iron mail
And no man single-handed
Can hope to break the bars
It's a thousand like Ned Kelly
Who'll hoist the flag of stars
Poor Ned, you're better off dead
At least you'll get some peace of mind
You're out on the track
They're right on your back
Boy, they're ‘gonna hang you high