Brisbane Ladies

Farewell and adieu to you, Brisbane ladies

Farewell and adieu, you maids of Toowong

We've sold all our cattle and northward we'll travel

But we hope we shall see you again before long.

Chorus:

We'll rant and we'll roar like true Queensland drovers

We'll rant and we'll roar as onward we push

Until we return to the Augathella station

Oh, it's flamin' dry goin' through the old Queensland bush.

The first camp we make, we shall call it the Quart Pot,

Caboolture, then Kilcoy, and Collington's Hut,

We'll pull up at the stone house, Bob Williamson's paddock,

And early next morning we cross the Blackbutt.

Chorus

Then on to Taromeo and Yarraman Creek, lads,

It's there we shall make our next camp for the day

Where the water and grass are both plenty and sweet, lads,

And maybe we'll butcher a fat little stray.

Chorus

Then on to Nanango, that hard-bitten township

Where the out-of-work station-hands shit in the dust,

Where the shearers get shorn by old Tim, the contractor

Oh, I wouldn't go near there, but I flaming well must!

Chorus

The girls of Toomancie they look so entrancing

Like bawling young heifers they're out for their fun

With the waltz and the polka and all kinds of dancing

To the rackety old banjo of Bob Anderson.

Chorus

Then fill up your glasses, and drink to the lasses,

We'll drink this town dry, then farewell to them all

And when we've got back to the Augathella Station,

We hope you'll come by there and pay us a call.

Spanish Ladies

Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish Ladies,

Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain;

For we've received orders for to sail for ole England,

But we hope in a short time to see you again.

Chorus

We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,

We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.

Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;

From Ushant to Scilly is thirty five leagues.

We hove our ship to with the wind from sou'west, boys

We hove our ship to, deep soundings to take;

'Twas forty-five fathoms, with a white sandy bottom,

So we squared our main yard and up channel did make.

The first land we sighted was called the Dodman,

Next Rame Head off Plymouth, off Portsmouth the Wight;

We sailed by Beachy, by Fairlight and Dover,

And then we bore up for the South Foreland light.

Then the signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor,

And all in the Downs that night for to lie;

Let go your shank painter, let go your cat stopper!

Haul up your clewgarnets, let tacks and sheets fly!

Now let ev'ry man drink off his full bumper,

And let ev'ry man drink off his full glass;

We'll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy,

And here's to the health of each true-hearted lass.