Come, all my hearties, we’ll roam the mountains high,
Together we will plunder, together we will die.
We’ll wander over valleys, and gallop over plains,
And we’ll scorn to live in slavery, bound down with iron
chains.


He was scarcely sixteen years of age when he left his father’s
home,
And through Australia’s sunny clime a bushranger did roam.
He robbed those wealthy squatters, their stock he did
destroy,
And a terror to Australia was the wild Colonial boy.

Chorus: Come, all my hearties, &c.

In sixty-one this daring youth commenced his wild career,
With a heart that knew no danger, no foeman did he fear.
He stuck up the Beechworth mail coach, and robbed Judge
MacEvoy,
Who trembled, and gave up his gold to the wild Colonial boy.

Chorus: Come, all my hearties, &c.

He bade the Judge “Good morning,” and told him to beware,
That he’d never rob a hearty chap that acted on the square,
And never to rob a mother of her son and only joy,
Or else you may turn outlaw, like the wild Colonial boy.