I Hate Wogs
-Eric Bogle
I`m a dicky-dye Australian guy and me name is Blooey Schmidt.
I love this sunburned country and I`m bloody proud of it
And I love our simple way of life and the things we all hold dear
Like V.F.L. and Big Ben Pies and foamin` Tueeze beer
I love our open friendliness where a man can make good mates
In fact in all Australia there`s just one thing I hate:
I hate Wogs, they live like dogs
Some eat bananas and some eat frogs
Soome wear turbans some wear clogs
All the bloody same to me `cause I hate Wogs.
They can`t speak proper English and they never seem to learn
And the awful guff that they call food would make your stomach turn
It`s always dipped in garlic sauce or fried in olive oil
I`ve never tasted any meself, but I bet it all tastes vile!
What`s wrong with good Australian food, you Slovaks and you Poles?
Good healthy stuff like pie and sauce and chips and chigger rolls
`Cause I hate Wogs, they live like dogs
Some eat bananas and some eat frogs
Soome wear turbans some wear clogs
All the bloody same to me `cause I hate Wogs.
And the local chip shop down the street is run by a bloody Greek
He`s open sixteen hours a day and seven days a week
And every cent that you spend there on a pie or on dumsim
Helps to send back home to Greece for a bastard just like him!
Oh, I never eat there meself `cause I couldn`t touch Wog meat
I usually eat at the Chinese caf` that`s just across the street!
`Cause I hate Wogs, they live like dogs
Some eat bananas and some eat frogs
Soome wear turbans some wear clogs
All the bloody same to me `cause I hate Wogs.
I was queueing down at the Registry, a-pickin` up me dole
In front of me was a Yugoslav, in front of him a Pole
Behind me was a Eyetalian, behind him was a Turk
Those lazy migrant bastards do, they never bloody work!
But in spite of what the papers say, there`s work for those who want to
The wife and twenty-seven kids is all the work I`m going to!
`Cause I hate Wogs, they live like dogs
Some eat bananas and some eat frogs
Soome wear turbans some wear clogs
All the bloody same to me `cause I hate Wogs.
So send the bastards home to Spain, and Italy and Greece
And maybe when they`ve all gone home, we`ll get some bloody peace
To sit in the shade of the killabar tree and drink beer all day long
And run amok with a flat-bed truck, down by the billabong
And every night at twelve o`clock to show that we`re not slaggards
We`ll stand and sing our national song, Advance Australia, backwards!
