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I Hate Wogs
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Eric Bogle
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I Hate Wogs
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-Eric Bogle
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I'm a dicky-dye Australian guy and me name is Blooey Schmidt.
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I love this sunburned country and I'm bloody proud of it
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And I love our simple way of life and the things we all hold dear
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Like V.F.L. and Big Ben Pies and foamin' Tueeze beer
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I love our open friendliness where a man can make good mates
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In fact in all Australia there's just one thing I hate:
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I hate Wogs, they live like dogs
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Some eat bananas and some eat frogs
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Soome wear turbans some wear clogs
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All the bloody same to me 'cause I hate Wogs.
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They can't speak proper English and they never seem to learn
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And the awful guff that they call food would make your stomach turn
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It's always dipped in garlic sauce or fried in olive oil
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I've never tasted any meself, but I bet it all tastes vile!
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What's wrong with good Australian food, you Slovaks and you Poles?
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Good healthy stuff like pie and sauce and chips and chigger rolls
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'Cause I hate Wogs, they live like dogs
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Some eat bananas and some eat frogs
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Soome wear turbans some wear clogs
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All the bloody same to me 'cause I hate Wogs.
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And the local chip shop down the street is run by a bloody Greek
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He's open sixteen hours a day and seven days a week
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And every cent that you spend there on a pie or on dumsim
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Helps to send back home to Greece for a bastard just like him!
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Oh, I never eat there meself 'cause I couldn't touch Wog meat
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I usually eat at the Chinese caf' that's just across the street!
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'Cause I hate Wogs, they live like dogs
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Some eat bananas and some eat frogs
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Soome wear turbans some wear clogs
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All the bloody same to me 'cause I hate Wogs.
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I was queueing down at the Registry, a-pickin' up me dole
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In front of me was a Yugoslav, in front of him a Pole
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Behind me was a Eyetalian, behind him was a Turk
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Those lazy migrant bastards do, they never bloody work!
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But in spite of what the papers say, there's work for those who want to
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The wife and twenty-seven kids is all the work I'm going to!
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'Cause I hate Wogs, they live like dogs
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Some eat bananas and some eat frogs
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Soome wear turbans some wear clogs
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All the bloody same to me 'cause I hate Wogs.
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So send the bastards home to Spain, and Italy and Greece
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And maybe when they've all gone home, we'll get some bloody peace
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To sit in the shade of the killabar tree and drink beer all day long
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And run amok with a flat-bed truck, down by the billabong
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And every night at twelve o'clock to show that we're not slaggards
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We'll stand and sing our national song, "Advance Australia", backwards!
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