| When first we left old England’s shores, such yarns as we were told,
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| As how folks in Australia could pick up lumps of gold,
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| So when we got to Melbourne Town, we were ready soon to slip,
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| And get even with the captain, we scuttled from the ship.
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| With my swag all on my shoulder, black billy in my hand,
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| I travelled the bush of Australia like a true-born native man.
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| We steered our course for Portland Town, then north-west of Ballarat,
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| Where some of us got mighty thin, and some got sleek and fat.
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| Some tried their luck at Bindigo and some at Fiery Creek,
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| I made a fortune in a day and spent it in a week.
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| So round the tucker tracks I tramp, nor leave them out of sight,
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| My swag’s on my left shoulder, and then upon my right,
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| And then I take it on my back and oft upon it lie,
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| These are the best of tucker tracks, so I’ll stay here till I die.
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| I travelled the bush of Australia like a true-born native man. |