Oh, it's dreadful to think in a country like this 
With its chances for work - and enjoyment 
That a man like McGuinness was certain to miss 
Whenever he tried for employment. 

He wrote to employers from Bondi to Bourke, 
From Woolloomooloo to Glen Innes, 
But he found - though his wife could get plenty of work - 
There was never a job for McGuinness. 

But perhaps - later on - when the Chow and the Jap 
Begin to drift down from the tropics, 
When a big yellow stain spreading over the map 
Provides some disquieting topics, 

Oh, it's then when they're wanting a man that will stand 
In the trench where his own kith and kin is, 
With a frown on his face and a gun in his hand - 
Then there might be a job for McGuinness!