HM Prison Wandsworth is a Category B men’s prison at Wandsworth in South West London, England. It was opened in 1851 and is the largest prison in the United Kingdom. It was designed for 700 prisoners in individual cells, each with toilet facilities. From 1870, conditions at Wandsworth deteriorated and the toilets were removed from the cells to make room for extra prisoners and the practice of “slopping out” introduced which was to remain in force until 1996.
These categories are based on a combination of the type of crime committed, the length of sentence, the likelihood of escape, and the danger to the public if they were to escape. The main part of the prison, having 4 wings radiating from the centre, was for male prisoners with a smaller separate building for females. Patrick Tunney was in C wing. Cell forty-three. Category C prisoners were those who cannot be trusted in open conditions but who are unlikely to try to escape
135 prisoners were to be put to death here from 1878 to 1961, comprising of 134 men and one woman. The seventeen 19th century executions were all for murder. A further 117 men were hanged there in the 20th century comprising of 105 murderers, 10 spies (one in World War I and nine in World War II), and two traitors, John Amery and William Joyce, after the end of World War II hostilities. Irish revolutionary Roger Casement was hanged there on 3 August 1916 and his remains interred at the site until 1965.
This poem is a farewell and bidding “adieu to big London town, with joy I am parting thee, twice farewell to Wandsworth jail an C 4 forty three. Farewell to the warders one and all, who herded me each day, And a fond farewell to the plank in the cell – to Frongoch I’m on my way”.
We also get an insight into what the prisoners diet, recreation and prayer facilities, “Farewell to the meagre fares I shared – the tea and margarine, Potatoe slice, the bread, the rice, the meat so scarce and lean. Farewell to the books, that I could read, the church where I could pray”.
But, we can see that he’s not sorry to be leaving “Though I’m parting them all, no tears will fall, whilst to Frongoch I’m on my way”.
Farewell, adieu big London town, with joy I am parting thee,
Twice farewell to Wandsworth jail and C 4 forty three.
Farewell to the warders one and all, who herded me each day,
And a fond farewell to the plank in the cell – to Frongoch I’m on my way.
Farewell to the meagre fares I shared – the tea and margarine,
Potatoe slice, the bread, the rice, the meat so scarce and lean.
Farewell to the books, that I could read, the church where I could pray,
Though I’m parting them all, no tears will fall, whilst to Frongoch I’m on my way.
Farewell to lonely hours I spent in that lone dreary jail,
A thinking of my Irish home by the waters of Clew Bay.
Oh, my Róisín Dhu, to you I’ll be true,
Though to Frongoch I am on my way.
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