There was a man born in this land in 1855
Edward Kelly was his name
Raised by a poor man, hated by the law man
Till they laid him in his grave
Brought up in the hard times
On a farm in Victoria
He learned to fight for all that he believed
And with his brother Daniel, Steven Hart and Joseph Burns
They lived and died with rebel dignity
Some say he was a good man
Some say he was a bad man
Some say he was just fighting to be free
Were those who judged him of his crime as guilty when you draw the line
Between the chains of hell and liberty?
And sometimes I wonder why, Edward Kelly
Sometimes I see you riding with the boys
And sometimes I wonder why
Edward Kelly had to die
Is the justice done when the jury makes it's choice?
Some say he was a good man
Some say he was a bad man
Some say he was just fighting to be free
Were those who judged him of his crime as guilty when you draw the line
Between the chains of hell and liberty?
And sometimes I wonder why, Edward Kelly
Sometimes I see you riding with the boys
And sometimes I wonder why
Edward Kelly had to die
Is the justice done when the jury makes it's choice?
Is the justice done when the jury makes it's choice?
Is the justice done when the jury makes it's choice?
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