Ned Kelly was born in a ramshackle hut,
He’d battled since he was a kid:
He grew up with bad men and duffers and thieves,
And learnt all the bad things they did.
Now down at Glenrowan they held up the pub,
And were having a drink and a song,
When the troopers rolled up and surrounded the place:
The Kellys had waited too long.
Some say he’s a hero and gave to the poor.
While others, ‘A killer,’ they say;
But to me it just proves the old saying is true,
The saying that crime doesn’t pay.
Yet, when I look round at some people I know,
And the prices of things that we buy;
I just think to myself, well perhaps, after all,
Old Ned wasn’t such a bad guy.