BLOOD STAINS THE WATTLE
By 1851 the word had rung out
There’s gold in dem dere hills in the land of the south
There’s many an old knight of the pick and spade
Lest we forget the eureka stockade
So we must fly a rebel flag
As others have before us
And we must sing a rebel song
And sing in rebel chorus
Scobie’s death and Bentley’s fire was the last straw
The man wanted his piece, so there’s bound to be war
Enough is enough, we’ve had it up to the hilt
10,000 rabble roared on Bakery Hill
So we must fly a rebel flag
As others have before us
And we must sing a rebel song
And sing in rebel chorus
Blood stains the wattle
We’ll sing our rebel song
Blood stains the wattle
Their memory won’t be forgot
Those diggers who took up arms
Underneath our Southern Cross
The 3rd of December 1854
The troopers stormed the stockade of Eureka at dawn
A story of sedition, a slaughter, a war
Corruption and oppression, tyrants at the door
So we must fly a rebel flag
As others have before us
And we must sing a rebel song
And sing in rebel chorus
Blood stains the wattle
We’ll sing our rebel song
Blood stains the wattle
Their memory won’t be forgot
Those diggers who took up arms
Underneath our Southern Cross
A victory won by a battle lost for the cause
The wars, the wars
A battle lost for the cause
