We've got a pie-eyed aborigine playing on a didgeridoo,
And our captain is whistling the blues,
A banjo picking bosun and a crew that hates the ocean,
On a Sydney Harbour ferry boat loaded up with booze.
Now the captain is a man to go down in history,
For mastering his vessel through that alcoholic sea,
So his pa**engers can't drown he's gave orders all around,
"Not a drop of water on this bloody boat for me."
We've got a pie-eyed aborigine playing on a didgeridoo,
And our captain is whistling the blues,
A banjo picking bosun and a crew that hates the ocean,
On a Sydney Harbour ferry boat loaded up with booze.
"Won't you come home son", cries his dear old mum,
As she stands there on t'jetty where they store the ferry's rum,
"It's been nearly twenty years since you left your family dear,
For a Sydney Harbour ferry boat that's never left the pier."
We've got a pie-eyed aborigine playing on a didgeridoo,
And our captain is whistling the blues,
A banjo picking bosun and a crew that hates the ocean,
On a Sydney Harbour ferry boat loaded up with booze.
The cook's in the kitchen sipping rum thick and black,
The mate's up in the crow's nest, he's flat out on his back,
And down in the engine room's our brilliant engineer,
He converted every piston head to pump the ice-cold beer.
We've got a pie-eyed aborigine playing on a didgeridoo,
And our captain is whistling the blues,
A banjo picking bosun and a crew that hates the ocean,
On a Sydney Harbour ferry boat loaded up with booze.
We've got a pie-eyed aborigine playing on a didgeridoo,
And our captain is whistling the blues,
A banjo picking bosun and a crew that hates the ocean,
On a Sydney Harbour ferry boat loaded up with booze.
We've got a pie-eyed aborigine playing on a didgeridoo,
And our captain is whistling the blues,
A banjo picking bosun and a crew that hates the ocean,
On a Sydney Harbour ferry boat loaded up with booze.