week,
And passed through old Narrandera and crossed the Burnet
Creek.
And we never stopped at Wagga, for we’d Sydney in our eye.


But we camped at Lazy Harry’s, on the road to Gundagai.
Chorus: But we camped, &c.

Oh, I’ve seen a lot of girls, my boys, and drunk a lot of beer,
And I’ve met with some of both, chaps, as has left me mighty
queer;
But for beer to knock you sideways, and for girls to make
you sigh,
You must camp at Lazy Harry’s, on the road to Gundagai.

Well, we chucked our blooming swags off, and we walked
into the bar,
And we called for rum-an’-raspb’ry and a shilling each cigar.
But the girl that served the pizen, she winked at Bill and I—
And we camped at Lazy Harry’s, not five miles from
Gundagai.

In a week the spree was over and the cheque was all knocked
down,
So we shouldered our “Matildas,” and we turned our backs
on town,
And the girls they stood a nobbler as we sadly said “Good
bye,”
And we tramped from Lazy Harry’s, not five miles from