Baz Sez...
Work with the men of the iron gang.
Work with the men of the iron gang.
Now, all gather round for the telling of when
We rode with a band of highwaymen.
Tried for the robbing of The London Mail.
Ha!
And we all finished up in Newgate Jail.
Work, work, work, work.
Arms aching, backs breaking.
Work.
Nothing but work with the men of the iron gang.
They dragged us in and they stood us there
With the judge looking down from his big, high chair.
I noticed the filling of his eyes with tears,
Ha!
As he sentenced us to fourteen years
Work, work, work, work.
Of arm - aching, back - breaking
Work with the men of the iron gang.
They sent us away on a trip
In the bowels of a stinking ship.
After eight long months they lowered the sails
And we first saw the light of New South Wales
And work, work, work.
Nothing but work with the men of the iron gang.
With picks in our hands and our chains locked tight
We scorch in the sun and shiver all night.
Slave all day for His Majesty.
Ha!
And it's never a "Thanks", or a jug of tea.
Just heart-aching, back - breaking
Work.
Work with the men of the iron gang.
If death can't set me free,
Give me back my liberty.
And I'll never do nothing bad again
If I live to five score years and ten.
Work, work, work.
Nothing but work with the men of the iron gang.
Work with the men of the iron gang.