When the summer sun is shining on Australia's happy landWhen countless spires of smoke inspires many a solemn bandYou'll see Australians watching their lunch go up in flamesBy the smoke and the smell, you can plainly tellIt's Barbie time againOh, when the steaks are burning fiercelyAnd the smoke gets in your eyesOh, when the sausages taste like frightened pasteAnd you're driven mad with fliesIt's a national institutionIt's the Aussie thing to doSo come along, mate, and *** your plateLet's have a barbecueWhen the steaks are burning fiercelyAnd the smoke gets in your eyesOh, when the sausages taste like frightened pasteAnd you're driven mad with fliesIt's a national institutionIt's the Aussie thing to doSo come along, mate, and *** your plateLet's have a barbecueOh, the Scotsman loves his haggisThe French eat snails and frogsThe Greeks go crackers over thereThe Sackers and the Yanks love off dogsWoo!The Welsh just love to have a leakThe Irish love their stewBut you just can't beat the half-cooked meatAt an Aussie barbecueWhen the steaks are burning fiercelyAnd the smoke gets in your eyesOh, when the sausages taste like frightened pasteAnd you're driven mad with fliesIt's a national institutionIt's the Aussie thing to doSo come along, mate, and *** your plateLet's have a barbecueOh, this fly's stuck to the margarineThe bread has gone rock hardThe kids are fightingMy mozzie's a-bitingWho forgot the aerogardThere's bull ants in the eskyAnd the beer is running outAnd what you saw in Mumsco's slawYou just can't think aboutWhen the steaks are burning fiercelyAnd the smoke gets in your eyesOh, when the sausages taste like frightened pasteAnd you're driven mad with fliesIt's a national institutionIt's the Aussie thing to doSo come along, mate, and *** your plateLet's have a barbecueTo the party music, do you hear?Oh, and when the day is overIn your homeward way you endWith a tongue that's groffy on the family pottyMany lonely hours you'll spendYou will find yourself reflectingAs many often doCome rain or shineIt's the very last time you'll have a barbecueWhen the steaks are burning fiercelyAnd the smoke gets in your eyesOh, when the sausages taste like frightened pasteAnd you're driven mad with fliesIt's a national institutionIt's the Aussie thing to doSo come along, mate, and *** your plateLet's have a barbecueWhen the steaks are burning fiercelyAnd the smoke gets in your eyesOh, when the sausages taste like frightened pasteAnd you're driven mad with fliesIt's a national institutionIt's the Aussie thing to doSo come along, mate, and *** your plateLet's have a barbecueSo come along, mate, and *** your plateLet's have a barbecue