There's the captain as is our commander,
There's the bosun and all the ship's crew,
There's the first and the second class passengers,
Knows what we poor convicts goes through.
'Taint leaving Old England we cares about,
'Taint 'cause we mis-spells what we knows,
But because all we light-fingered gentry,
Hops around with a log on our toes.
Oh had I the wings of a turtle-dove,
I'd soar on my pinions so high,
Slap bang to the arms of my Polly love,
And in her sweet presence I'd die.
Now all my dookies and duchesses,
Take warning from what I've to say,
Mind all is your own as you touchesses,
Or you'll find us in Botany Bay.