| Well, I’m on my way down to the quay
|
| Where the good ship Nell doth lay
|
| To command a gang of navvies
|
| I was ordered to engage
|
| I thought I would stop in for a while
|
| Before I sailed away
|
| For to take a trip on an immigrant ship
|
| To the shores of Botany Bay
|
| Farewell to your bricks and mortar
|
| Farewell to your dirty lime
|
| Farewell to your gangway and gang planks
|
| And to Hell with your overtime
|
| For the good ship Ragamuffin
|
| She’s lying at the quay
|
| For to take old Pat with a shovel on his back
|
| To the shores of Botany Bay
|
| The best years of our life we spend at
|
| Working on the docks
|
| Building mighty wharves and quays
|
| Of earth and ballast rocks
|
| Though pensions keep our jobs secure
|
| I shan’t rue the day
|
| When I take a trip on an immigrant ship
|
| To the shores of Botany Bay
|
| Farewell to your bricks and mortar
|
| Farewell to your dirty lime
|
| Farewell to your gangway and gang planks
|
| And to Hell with your overtime
|
| For the good ship Ragamuffin
|
| She’s lying at the quay
|
| For to take old Pat with a shovel on his back
|
| To the shores of Botany Bay
|
| Well, the boss comes up this morning
|
| And he says, «Why, Pat, hello
|
| If you do not mix the mortar quick
|
| To be sure you’ll have to go»
|
| Well, of course he did insult me
|
| I demanded all me pay
|
| And I told him straight I was going to emigrate
|
| To the shores of Botany Bay
|
| Farewell to your bricks and mortar
|
| Farewell to your dirty lime
|
| Farewell to your gangway and gang planks
|
| And to Hell with your overtime
|
| For the good ship Ragamuffin
|
| She’s lying at the quay
|
| For to take old Pat with a shovel on his back
|
| To the shores of Botany Bay
|
| When I reach Australia
|
| I’ll go and search for gold
|
| There’s plenty there for digging up
|
| Or so I have been told
|
| Or maybe I’ll go back to me trade
|
| Eight hundred bricks I’ll lay
|
| For an eight hour shift and an eight bob pay
|
| On the shores of Botany Bay
|
| Farewell to your bricks and mortar
|
| Farewell to your dirty lime
|
| Farewell to your gangway and gang planks
|
| And to Hell with your overtime
|
| For the good ship Ragamuffin
|
| She’s lying at the quay
|
| For to take old Pat with a shovel on his back
|
| To the shores of Botany Bay
|
| The shores of Botany Bay! |