While The Billy BoilsSearchYou doubtless read the papers,And as men of observation,Of course you watch the progressOf Chinese immigration —For thousands of these pigtail chapsIn Adelaide are landing;And why they let such numbers comeExceeds my understanding.
On Emerald Hill it now appearsA Joss House they’ve erected;And they’ve got an ugly idol there —It’s just what I expected;And they offer nice young chickensUnto this wooden log;And sometimes with a sucking pigThey go the entire hog.
Now some of you, perhaps, may laugh,But ’tis my firm opinion,This colony some day will beUnder Chinese dominion.They’ll upset the Australian government,The place will be their own;And an Emperor with a long pigtail,Will sit upon the throne.
Melbourne will be the seat of power,And then ’tis my impression,Of the stations up the countryThey’ll quickly take possession.The squatters will be used as slaves,By the Celestial nation;And growing tea or rice will beTheir only compensation.
The mandarins will seize for wivesThe fair Australian girls;And from Melbourne to the diggingsThey’ll cut lots of canals.And for fear the coves of New South WalesShould pay a hostile call;Between this colony and thatNo doubt they’ll build a wall.
The customs of their countryOf course will then prevail;And every English slave will haveTo wear a long pigtail.We’ll all of us be fed on rice,As true as I’m a sinner;And ’stead of spoons we’ll have to useThose chopsticks for our dinner.
This picture, perhaps, is overdrawn;But, however, who can say,That all these things will not take place,If we let them have their way.If it comes to pass, these English songsAway I’ll quick be flinging,And learn their language, and come outIn Chinese comic singing.