I've sailed the North Atlantic, where ice blows in
And roamed the Dutch West Indies in the calm blue
When I think of ships and seamen, my thoughts return
To a season spent in Moreton Bay with Queensland
Sing ho, you Queensland whalers, you’ve cut the
And drove the herds of cattle o'er the dry and dusty
You've dug the ore at Isa, laid countless miles of
And now you come to Moreton Bay to catch the
For men who've chased the brumbies, caught bullocks
by the tail
It really is no problem to catch a humpback whale.
Just spur your iron sea-horse, put the gun through
And when he runs from the coral scrub, you belt him
in the guts.
The man up in the crow's nest, as whaling legends
Looks out across the water with a cry of,
"There she blows,"
But here in sunny Queensland you'll often hear them
"There goes a bloody beauty, mate, so get your
From Moreton to Caloundra bronze whaler sharks
They wait like dingoes in the scrub for a wounded
beast that's down.
But their taste for blood and savagery, it never
With the bite that Inland Revenue takes from our
When fuel tanks are running low, we head to Brisbane
And head to the nearest boozer our sorrows for to
With beer and fiery whisky, and plonk of vintage
We steer a steady zigzag course without a bloody
Hoorah! The season's over, and we can all return
We’ll see our wives and sweethearts and have a
We'll rant like cattle drovers, we'll roar like
And when the season starts next year you'll find us