Virginia
Bob Fox| Original | Australia - Traditional |
| VIRGINIA | AUSTRALIA |
| Now come all you young fellas where ere you may be Come listen awhile and I'll tell you For it's many the young man myself I have seen More fitted to serve than to die on the string But those hard hearted judges how cruel they have been For they've sent us poor lads to Virginia For they've sent us poor lads to Virginia. | Come all you young fellows wheresome’er you may be, Come listen awhile to my story. |
| Now when I was in service in fair London town I worked long and hard for my master Till those pretty young ladies they led me astray And my work I neglected for sport and for play And for to maintain it robbed on the highway And for that I was sent to Virginia And for that I was sent to Virginia. | For when I was a young man, my age seventeen, I ought to be serving Victoria, our Queen. But those hard-hearted judges, oh, how cruel they be To send us poor young lads to Australia. |
| Now when we got to Virginia, that cold shameful place Which now I recall in my story Our captain he stood with a whip and a cane And he bargained for us, to be sold out of hand Like horses they yoked us that ploughed the salt main And they sold us for slaves in Virginia And they sold us for slaves in Virginia. | I fell in with a damsel, she was handsome and gay, I neglected my work more and more every day, And to keep her like a lady I went on the highway, And for that I was sent to Australia. |
| Now when I robbed on the highway well I lived at my ease I laid down me head on soft feathers With a glass in me hand and a lass on me knee No robber in England lived better than me Now me bed's the cold ground, far across the salt sea And how is my fate in Virginia And how is my fate in Virginia. | Where the judges, they stand with their whips in their hands, They drive us like horses to plough up the land. You should see us poor young fellows, working in the jail-yard, Oh, how hard is our fate in Australia. |
| Oh England, oh England, I fear I'll not see more If I do it's ten thousand to twenty For me fingers and rotting and me back it is sore And I wander around right down at death's door But if I could just live to see seven years more Well I'd soon bid farewell to Virginia Yes I'd soon bid farewell to Virginia. | Australia, Australia, I would ne’er see thee more, I’m worn out with fever, cast down to Death’s door, But if I live to see, say, seven years more, I would then bid adieu to Australia. |
