This is one version I heard a few years back:


There was a wild colonial boy. Jack Dougan was his name.
He was born and reared in Ireland, in a place called Castlemaine.
He was his father's only son, his mother's pride and joy,
And dearly did the parents love their wild colonial boy.

At hammer-throwing Jack was great or swinging a caman.
He led the boys in all their pranks, from dusk to early dawn.
At hunting and at poaching trout, he was the real McCoy,
But all the neighbours loved young Jack, the wild colonial boy.

At the early age of 18 years, he left his native home,
And to Australia's sunny land, he was inclined to roam.
He robbed the rich to help the poor. He stabbed James McAvoy.
A terror to Australia was the wild colonial boy.

He loved the prairie and the bush, where rangers rode along.
While listening to the mockingbirds, he sang a cheerful song.
But if the foe would cross his tracks, or force him to deploy,
They'd get fast shooting sure from Jack, the wild colonial boy.

For three long years this daring youth, ran on a wild career
With a head that knew no danger and a heart that knew no fear.
He robbed outright the wealthy squires. Their arms he did destroy,
And woe to all who dared to face the wild colonial boy.

One morning on the prairie wild as Jack he rode along,
With his gun stuck in his holster deep, he sang a merry song.
Out jumped a band of troopers, Kelly, Davis and Fitzroy.
They had all set out to capture him, the wild colonial boy.

“Surrender now Jack Dougan, for you see we're three to one.
Surrender in the King's high name. You are a plundering son.”
Jack drew two pistols from his belt, and proudly waved them high.
“I'll fight but not surrender,” said the wild colonial boy.

He fired a shot at Kelly that brought him to the ground,
And turning then to Davis who received a fatal wound.
But a bullet pierced his brave young heart, from the pistol of Fitzroy,
And that was how they captured him, the wild colonial boy.