The classic whingeing Pom:

THE POMMY'S LAMENT

Hurrah for good old England,
We'll soon be going there,
This hungry life and awful strife
We can no longer bear.
We were pitched into the backblocks,
We might just as well have been dead,
A chaff bag was our pillow,
The ground our feather bed.

We lived on tea and damper,
And sometimes kangaroo,
Daytime we were scorched to death,
Nighttime frozen blue.
But now at last we see a hope
Of getting from this hole,
Hurrah for good old England
Where they're dishing out the dole!

THE BUSHMAN'S ANSWER

You whingeing mob of bastards,
No bloody guts you've got;
I hope the bloody boat goes down
And drowns the bloody lot!
Since you've been out in Aussie
You've done nothing else but moan,
You're a whingeing lot of bludgers
And you should have stayed at home.

You thought you'd pick up sovereigns
In our bloody streets;
You thought you'd pick up nuggets
In our bloody creeks.
You thought you'd make your fortune
After being out here a day
You're just a bludging mob of bastards
And it's time you went away!

Ron Edwards, "The Overlander Songbook;" Second Edition, The Ram's Skull Press, 1969.

Collected from Tiger O'Shane, Holloway's Beach, 1965