| Farewell to your bricks and mortar, farewell to your dirty lies
|
| Farewell to your gangers and gang planks, to hell with your overtime
|
| For the good ship Ragamuffin is lying at the quay
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| To take oul Pat with a shovel on his back
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| To the shores of Botany Bay
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| I’m on my way down to the quay where the ship at anchor lays
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| To command a gang of navvys that they told me to engage
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| I thought I’d drop in for a drink before I went away
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| For to take a trip on an emigrant ship to the shores of Botany Bay
|
| Farewell to your bricks and mortar, farewell to your dirty lies
|
| Farewell to your gangers and gang planks, to hell with your overtime
|
| For the good ship Ragamuffin is lying at the quay
|
| To take oul Pat with a shovel on his back
|
| To the shores of Botany Bay
|
| The boss came up this morning, he says «well Pat you know
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| If you don’t get your navvys out I’m afraid you have to go»
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| So I asked him for me wages and demanded all my pay
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| For I told him straight, I’m going to emigrate to the shores of Botany Bay
|
| Farewell to your bricks and mortar, farewell to your dirty lies
|
| Farewell to your gangers and gang planks, to hell with your overtime
|
| For the good ship Ragamuffin is lying at the quay
|
| To take oul Pat with a shovel on his back
|
| To the shores of Botany Bay
|
| And when I reach Australia I’ll go and look for gold
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| There’s plenty there for the digging of, or so I have been told
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| Or else I’ll go back to my trade and a hundred bricks I’ll lay
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| Because I live for an eight hour shift on the shores of Botany Bay |