Our fathers came in search of gold, a claim that proved a dufferThe syndicates, the banks, the bosses, they all made us sufferWe fought for freedom, for ourselves, ourselves and mates of toilAustralia's sons are weary and Billy's on the boilAustralia's on the wallaby, on the sip to the cooeyKangaroo, he packs his port, a name you've shown is blueyThe boomerangs are whizzing round, the dingo scratches gravelThe moss and bears and bandicoots are always on the travelAn old tiger, snake and damper, oh, that's what's on the coalsOf droughts and floods and ragged duds and dried-out waterholesOf treeless runs and sun-scorched plains, they're asking us to toilAustralia's sons are weary and Billy's on the boilAustralia's on the wallaby, on the sip to the cooeyKangaroo, he packs his port, a name you've shown is blueyThe boomerangs are whizzing round, the dingo scratches gravelThe moss and bears and bandicoots are always on the travelThe cuckoo calls, the bats and owls, the pigeon and the ***The platypus, the mallee hen have all rolled up their swagsThe curler waves his hand goodbye beside the long lagoonAnd the brolga does the last lame waltz, the live bird's mocking tuneAustralia's on the wallaby, on the sip to the cooeyThe kangaroo, he packs his port, a name you've shown is blueyThe boomerangs are whizzing round, the dingo scratches gravelThe moss and bears and bandicoots are always on the travelAustralia's on the wallaby, on the sip to the cooeyThe kangaroo, he packs his port, a name you've shown is blueyThe boomerangs are whizzing round, the dingo scratches gravelThe moss and bears and bandicoots are always on the travelAustralia's on the wallaby, on the sip to the cooey