It's of a wild colonial boy, Jack Doolan was his name
Of poor but honest parents he was born in Castlemaine
He was his father's only son, his mother's pride and joy
And so dearly did his parents love their wild colonial boy

When he was sixteen year of age he left his native home
All through the bush of Victoria as a bushranger to roam
They put him in the iron gang in the government employ
He robbed the wealthy squatters and their stock he did destroy
But never an iron on earth could hold the wild colonial boy

In sixty-one this daring lad commenced his wild career
His courage being undaunted and no danger he did fear
He stuck up the Beechworth mail-coach and he robbed Judge MacEvoy
Who trembling cold gave up his gold to the wild colonial boy

He bade the judge, “Good morning,” and he told him to beware
He'd never robbed a poor man or one who acted square
But a judge that would rob a mother of her only pride and joy
Well, he was a worse outlaw than the wild colonial boy

One day as he was riding the mountainside along
A-listening to the kookaburra's pleasant laughing song
He spied three mounted troopers, Kelly, Davis, and Fitzroy
With a warrant for the capture of the wild colonial boy

“Surrender now, John Doolan, you see we're three to one
Surrender in the Queen's name, for you're a plundering son.”
Jack drew his pistol from his belt and he waved the little toy
“I'll fight but never surrender,” said the wild colonial boy

He fired at Trooper Kelly and he brought him to the ground
And in return Bob Davis gave him his mortal wound
All shattered through the jaws he lay with his pistol an empty toy
And that's the way they captured him, the wild colonial boy