I'm used to punching bullock teams across the hills and plains.
I've teamed them back for forty years in blazing drought and rain.
I've had me share of trouble, boys, but, hang me if I lie,
I'll never forget what happened to me five miles from Gundagai.

It was raining hard; me team got bogged; me axle snapped in two.
I lost me matches and me pipe; whatever could I do?
I couldn't make a pot of tea or keep me trousers dry,
And the dog he shat in the tucker box five miles from Gundagai.

I can forgive the dark and the cold and I can forgive the rain.
I can forgive me flaming team and go through this again.
I can forgive me flaming luck, but hang me if I die,
I can't forgive that bloody dog five miles from Gundagai. (etc.)