Oh must I go, this young man cried,
And must I leave without my wages,
With not a penny in my purse
And wander like some poor lost stranger?

All right, she said, just hang around
Till they come for you in the morning,
Then ask them for your fifty pounds,
Don't say I didn't give you warning.

There is a ship rides in the bay,
It's setting sail for far Australia,
And in the hold Matt Hyland's chained,
For being such a useless failure.

And in her chamber sits a maid,
She's busy writing out a letter,
An advert to the servant trade-
Let's hope the next one turns out better.