"figates" my failure at proof-reading; frigates in the broadside.

I doubt that this is a folksong; probably by a shilling-a-song writer for the song sheet printers.

Preserved on the same sheet is another song about the diggings in Australia, also written by someone who has never lifted a shovel or pick;

MERRILY WE PLY THE PICK & SPADE
H. Such, printer, London.

Hurrah! hurrah! for the yellow gold,
Hurrah! for the sunny land,
Teaming with treasures still untold,
That wait for the miner's hand:
Who'd barter or buy in the busy marts-
Of the over-peopled town.
Plotting and plodding till youth departs,
And in age still breaking down.

Chorus
Then merrily ply the pick and spade,
And rock the cradle fast,
Here we pursue no idle trade,
For we may be rich at last.

Two more verses of the same sort of drivel.