Me name is Pat O´Leary, I´m a navvy lad from Cork
Me boss he is a bastard, I´m sick of his piece-work
I´ll sail to dear Australia, the land so far away
So that´s my fate, I´m going to emigrate to the shores of Botany Bay

I´m on my way down to the quay where the ship at anchor lays
To command a gang of navvies they told me to engage
I though I´d drop in for a drink before I sail away
For to take a trip on an emigrant ship to the shores of Botany Bay

The boss came up this morning, he says "Well Pat, hello!
If you don´t get your navvies out, I´m afraid you´ll have to go"
So I asked him for me vages and I demanded all me pay
For I told him straight, I´m going to emigrate to the shores of Botany Bay

And when I reach Australia, I´ll go and I look for gold
There´s plenty there for digging off or so I have been told
Or else I go back to me trade and a hundred bricks I lay
Because I live for an eight-hour-shift on the shores of Botany Bay

Farewell to your bricks and mortar, farewell to your dirty lies
Farewell to your gangway and your gangplanks
and to hell with your overtime
For the good ship Ragamuffin, she´s lying at the Quay
To take oul´ Pat with the shovel on his back
to the shores of Botany Bay