1. Now, all you blokes, take my advice|
And do your daily toil,
But don't go out to Bungaree
To work on the chocolate soil.
For the days they are so long, my boys,
They'll break your heart in two;
And if ever you work for cocky Bourke
You very soon will know.
2. On the thirsty Monday morning, sure,|
To work I had to go.
My noble cocky says to me,
"Get up! You're rather slow."
The moon was shining gloriously,
And the stars were out, you see,
And I thought before the sun would rise
I'd die in Bungaree.
3. Oh, he called me to my supper
4. "Now when you are chaff-cutting,|
Boys, isn't it a spell?"
"Yes, by Jove," says I, "it is,
And it's me that knows it well!"
For many of those fellows
With me they disagree,
For I hate the jolly nightwork that
They do in Bungaree.
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