#02814
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Oh, boys, brush up your beavers and wear your Sunday tie,
For we're off for the Whitbourne Races the day for to enjoy;
And we got the growler with us on the road to have a nip,
For a jolum is the daisy as along the road you skip.
As we have a few loose shiners then by all means let us go,
For to see the Whitbourne races and to watch the oarsmen row;
For the Gypsy and the Mascotte will be pulled by hardy boys,
At the gallant Whitbourne races for to see who'll win the prize.
Then girls get on your blouses, for the day don't look for rain,
And get John Joe, your fancy man, to take you on the train;
Put a bit of corn beef in your pocket and you'll find it no great load,
For it's terrible if the gnawing should come at you on the road.
Now all on board for Whitbourne, the conductor he will shout,
It's too late to wax your moustache when the train is moving out;
It's no time to look for a coloured duck when she's on the Whitbourne trip,
For the day is spoiled on Denis if he hasn't it in his hip.