While The Billy BoilsSearchUp! comrades, up! the night has flown,The dawn breaks dim and grey!The bugle-call of strife has blown!Arm! arm you for the fray!O’er hills which man’s injustice smote,The People’s hymn we’ll raise,Shout! every throat, a major note,Australia’s Marseillaise!
They call our creed a rebel creed,Our flag a rebel flag,Who scrawl the autograph of greedOn every wave-worn crag:Who sow in furrows of their greedA heritage of scorn,And bind the bonds of bitter needOn peoples yet unborn:
Who ruthless weave the fateful coilThat binds in bonds of hateLean helotry of hopeless toil,Fat harlotry of State,Who sow in furrows of their hateTwin thorns that never fail,The gilded thieves in Church and State,The squalid thieves in gaol.
They call our flag a rebel flag,Our creed a rebel creed,Who scrawl on every wave-worn cragThe autograph of greed.O’er hills which man’s injustice smote,The People’s hymn we’ll raise,Shout! every throat, a major note,Australia’s Marseillaise!