OFF TO THE DIGGINGS

Away to the diggings, in thousands they go,
The rich and the poor, the high and the low,
The lame and the lazy, the big folks and small,
One leg or two legs or no legs at all.
There is Indiamen, Steamers and Figates galore,
And fishing smacks sailing from old Scotland's shore,
With colliers and billy boys every day,-
To Australia to dig up the treasures, huzza!

Chorus
We are off to the diggings, old Scotland good bye,
Tears larger than mountains fall down from each eye;
We are off to the diggings from every street,
We are off to the diggings, our fortune to seek.

2
We are off to the diggings in thousands to see
Mutton dumplings and sausages grow on a tree,
And there we shall dig up, oh losh! what a treat,
Lumps of gold larger than big Arthur's seat.
It's there we can purchase lambs, tigers and goats,
A sheep for a penny, a bull for a groat,
Get your spoons and your dishes, for rarely you'll dine
With lots of the ladies from famous Leith Wynd.
3
We are off to the diggings from Britannia's shore,
Adieu, bonnie Scotland, we'll see you no more,
Where women, dear women, are wanted, 'tis said,
Though ninety, and never a tooth in their head,
They will do for Australia, to please any man,
To increase, multiply and inhabit the land;
You will wear golden petticoats, ear-rings and rings,
Golden bustles and bonnets, and all other things.
4
We're off to the diggings, don't loiter behind,
The merchant, the pauper, the halt and the blind,
And there are some deceivers, some villains, I say,
Who seduce the fair damsels and then run away;
They rob them, deceive them, and cheat them, and then-
Oh! Ladies beware of false-hearted men,
For when they deceive you they leave you to sigh,
And be off to the diggings to sing lullaby.
5
We are off to the diggings, goodbye, in a trice,
Mrs. Chisholm will give all the females advice,
And tell them, when they reach Australia's shore,
Where to find a good husband who will them adore;
Who will love them, and feed them,and kill 'em, alack!
And if that will not do, they can have a black!
Of ladies from here to the diggings are gone
Nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-one.
6
We are off to the diggings to banish all strife,
Farmer Chubb, his daughter, his son, his wife,
Johnny Wopstraw, the milkmaid, the pigs and the cows,
The waggons, the horses, the harrows and ploughs,
The goose and the donkey, the fields and the barns,
The stables, the haystacks, the houses and farm,
The tailor, the sleeve-board, the cobbler and stall,
With purses nine times as big as the Assembly Hall.
7
We are off to the diggings, the ship sails to day,
Where there's houses and land and no taxes to pay,
And here you may dig up, and that is no lark,
Some nuggets of gold that would fill Queen's Park.
We are off to the diggings, our fortune is made,
Where everyone for their labour is paid,
Where there's no union houses, but cheap beef and bread,
And the sun brightly shines on both sides of the hedge.

J. Scott, Pittenweem, sold by J. Wood, Edinburgh. Bodleian Collection, Firth c.16(397). No date; 19th C.

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