I Hate Wogs-Eric BogleI'm a dicky-dye Australian guy and me name is Blooey Schmidt.I love this sunburned country and I'm bloody proud of itAnd I love our simple way of life and the things we all hold dearLike V.F.L. and Big Ben Pies and foamin' Tueeze beerI love our open friendliness where a man can make good matesIn fact in all Australia there's just one thing I hate:I hate Wogs, they live like dogsSome eat bananas and some eat frogsSoome wear turbans some wear clogsAll the bloody same to me 'cause I hate Wogs.They can't speak proper English and they never seem to learnAnd the awful guff that they call food would make your stomach turnIt's always dipped in garlic sauce or fried in olive oilI've never tasted any meself, but I bet it all tastes vile!What's wrong with good Australian food, you Slovaks and you Poles?Good healthy stuff like pie and sauce and chips and chigger rolls'Cause I hate Wogs, they live like dogsSome eat bananas and some eat frogsSoome wear turbans some wear clogsAll the bloody same to me 'cause I hate Wogs.And the local chip shop down the street is run by a bloody GreekHe's open sixteen hours a day and seven days a weekAnd every cent that you spend there on a pie or on dumsimHelps to send back home to Greece for a bastard just like him!Oh, I never eat there meself 'cause I couldn't touch Wog meatI usually eat at the Chinese caf' that's just across the street!'Cause I hate Wogs, they live like dogsSome eat bananas and some eat frogsSoome wear turbans some wear clogsAll the bloody same to me 'cause I hate Wogs.I was queueing down at the Registry, a-pickin' up me doleIn front of me was a Yugoslav, in front of him a PoleBehind me was a Eyetalian, behind him was a TurkThose lazy migrant bastards do, they never bloody work!But in spite of what the papers say, there's work for those who want toThe wife and twenty-seven kids is all the work I'm going to!'Cause I hate Wogs, they live like dogsSome eat bananas and some eat frogsSoome wear turbans some wear clogsAll the bloody same to me 'cause I hate Wogs.So send the bastards home to Spain, and Italy and GreeceAnd maybe when they've all gone home, we'll get some bloody peaceTo sit in the shade of the killabar tree and drink beer all day longAnd run amok with a flat-bed truck, down by the billabongAnd every night at twelve o'clock to show that we're not slaggardsWe'll stand and sing our national song, "Advance Australia", backwards!