| He shall live to the end of this mad old world
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| As he lived since the world began
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| He never has done any good for himself
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| But been good to every man
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| He never has done any good for himself
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| And I’m sure that he never will
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| He drinks an' he swears an' he fights at times
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| And his name is mostly Bill
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| He carried a freezing mate to his cave
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| And nursed him for all I know
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| When Europe was mainly a sheet of ice
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| Thousands of years ago
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| He has stuck for many a mate since then
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| He is with us everywhere still
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| He loves and gambles when he is young
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| And the girls all stick up for Bill
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| He has thirsted on deserts that others might drink
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| He has given, lest others should lack
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| He has staggered, half blinded through fire or drought
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| With a sick man on his back
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| He is first to the rescue in tunnel or shaft
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| From Bulli to Broken Hill
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| When the water breaks in or the fire breaks out
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| A Leader of men is Bill
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| He is good for the noblest sacrifice
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| He can do what few men can
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| He will break his heart that the girl he loves
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| May marry a better man
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| And there’s many a mother an' wife tonight
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| Whose heart an' eyes will fill
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| When she thinks of the days of long ago
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| When she well might have stuck to Bill
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| Maybe he’s in trouble or hard up now
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| Travelling far for work
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| Or fighting a dead past down tonight
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| In a lone camp west of Burke
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| When he’s happy an' flush take your sorrows to him
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| And borrow as much as you will
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| But when he’s in trouble or stoney broke
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| Why, you never will hear from Bill
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| And when because of it’s million sins
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| This earth is cracked like a shell
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| He would stand by a mate at the judgement gate
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| And comfort him down in hell
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| I haven’t much sentiment left to waste
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| But let cynics sneer if they will
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| Perhaps God will fix up the world again
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| For the sake of the likes of Bill |