Farewell to your bricks and mortar,
Farewell to your dirty lies.
Farewell to your gangways and your gang planks,
To hell with your overtime.
And the good ship Ragamuffin she’s lying at the Quay,
Why not take poor Pat with a shovel on his back
To the shores of Botany Bay.
I’m on the way down to the quay where the good ship at anchor lays
To command a gang of navvies they told me to engage
Well I thought I’d stop in for to pint before I went away.
For to take a trip on an emigrant ship to the shores of Botany Bay.
Well the boss man he said this morning, well he said “Well Pat hello
If you didn’t get them blaggards out I’m afraid you’ll have to go.”
So I asked him for my wages, he said kindly go away
And I told him straight that I’d emigrate to the shores of Botany Bay.
And when we reach Australia I’ll go and search for gold.
There’s plenty there for a’digging, or so I have been told.
And it not I’ll go back to my trade, a hundred bricks I’ll lay
Well I’m tellin’ ya straight, we’re gonna emigrate, to the shores of Botany Bay.