I'm dead broke, I'm dead broke, so I've nothing to lose
I've the wide world before me to live where I choose.
I'm at home in the wild woods wherever I be
Though dead broke, though dead broke, the skedaddler is free!
Though creditors curse me, I care not a straw
I heed not old Begbie, I laugh at his law.
There is game in the mountains, the rivers yield fish
And for gold I can prospect wherever I wish.
Where I fancy a spot, I my blankets unfold
And remain for a time there to prospect for gold.
And ne'er as a debtor shall I go to quod
While my keep I can make with my gun and my rod.
While I sit by my fire and my baccy I blow
I heed not the cold winds, the frost or the snow
Though alone in the mountains at least I am free
Though the ground is my bed and my roof a pine tree.
When I think on the past, I can't see I'm at fault
Though I worked like a horse, yet I ne'er made my salt.
When the prospects were blighted they stopped all my jaw
And though honest at heart, I'm nowhere an outlaw.
Yet though cleaned out and fizzled I do not despair
There's a land far from this one, I soon shall be there
And if Providence leaves me my hands and my health
The skedaddler may yet win both honour and wealth!
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