1. They're leaving ship and station, They're leaving bench and fold, And pouring out from Melbourne To join the search for gold. The face of town and country Is changing ev'ry day, But rulers keep on ruling The old colonial way. 2. "How can we work the diggings And learn how fortune feels If all the traps forever Are yelping at our heels?" "If you've enough," says Lalor, "Of all their little games, Then go and get your licence And throw it on the flames!" 3. "The law is out to get us And make us bow in fear. They call us foreign rebels Who'd plant the Charter here!" "They may be right," says Lalor, "But if they show their braid, We'll stand our ground and hold it Behind a bush stockade!"

4. There's not a flag in Europe More lovely to behold, Than floats above Eureka Where diggers work the gold. "There's not a flag in Europe More lovely to the eye, Than is the blue and silver Against a southern sky. 5. Here in the name of freedom, Whatever be our loss, We swear to stand together Beneath the Southern Cross." It is a Sunday morning. The miner's camp is still; Two hundred flashing redcoats Come marching to the hill 6. Come marching up the gully With muskets firing low; And diggers wake from dreaming To hear the bugle blow. The wounded and the dying Lie silent in the sun, But change will not be halted By any redcoats gun.

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