Our Black Brudder

O, fellow Australians, listen, attend:
We must cease our contemptuous swearing
And cursing and sneering at Bull's colored friend,
For our attitude's too overbearing.
It is perfectly right we should keep ourselves white
But contemnpt is a national blunder.
Be as nice as you can to the camel-train man,
And speak like a friend to Ram Chunder.

When a spindle-legged heathen comes round to the door
With the bundle of commerce, disturbin'
The peace of your home, he'd be hurt if you swore
Or attempted to knock off his turban.
When the smiling Ah Wong, from the isle of Hongkong,
A loud smell and some cabbages hawking,
Makes eyes at your missus, 'tis certainly wrong,
To indulge in discourteous talking.

For, mark you, the hawker and camel-train lot,
Also he of the early 'spling callot,'
Are our own fellow subjects, although they do not,
Like ourselves, own the boon of the ballot.
For somehow or other old England, our mother,
Has got a mysterious notion
Of blocking their voting, although she is doting
Upon our dear friends o'er the ocean.

And watch how the Britisher does it himself
When he's forced to abide with the n*gger.
Is he rude in his way and contemptuous?  Nay,
His is quite a benevolent figure.
He loves Abdul Khan as a brother and man;
And he quickly by conscience is smitten
If on Khan by some chance he should cast a rude glance
He's a kind and considerate Briton.

The bonds of the Empire are somehow involved
In this business.  So be not neglectful.
Though Bull says it's right we should keep ourselves white,
He insists on our being respectful.
And it you should find your gorge rise, bear in mind
We must, keep our rude sentiments under.
Be as nice as you can to the camel-train man,
And act like a son to Ram Chunder.