Farewell to your bricks and mortar, farewell to your dirty lime,
Farewell to your gangers and your gangplanks and to hell with to your overtime.
The good ship Ragamuffin is a-lying at the quay
For to take old Pat, with a shovel on his back,
To the shores of Botany Bay
I'm on my way down to the quay, where a big ship now does lay,
To take a gang of navvies, I was ordered to engage.
I thought I might drop in for a drink, before I went away,
For to take a trip, on an emigrant ship,
To the shores of Botany Bay.
The boss came up this morning and he says, "Well, Pat, hello
If you do not mix that mortar fast, of course you'll have to go!"
Of course, he did insult me and I demanded all my pay
And I told him straight, I was goin' to emigrate,
To the shores of Botany Bay.
And when I reach Australia, I'll go and search for gold,
There's plenty there for diggin' up, or so I have been told.
Or else I might go back to my trade, eight hundred bricks I'll lay,
In an 8 hour day, for an 8 bob pay,
On the shores of Botany Bay.
