Billy O’Tea is an old mate o’ mine,
and if he says “It’s dinkum” well by me it’s fine.
When Billy’s on song, believe what you will,
but “It’s dinky-di Gospel”, according to Bill.

What’s dinkum to Mathew, Mark, Luke and John,
isn’t always the same track that Billy is on.
But this is true blue, cos Billy told me.
It’s the “fair dinkum gospel” o’ Billy O’Tea.

There’s been the time, I was loath to agree,
when the smoke from his campfire, made points hard to see.
But Billy explains, while bubbling away,
“It’s as dinkum as I’m sitting with you today”,

Bill’s waltzed Matilda, with ‘wee Nipper Scotch’,
from Wyndham down to Walpole, with nary a botch.
With Nipper beside, as “spiritshul guide”,
who will stoke up his coals, when his spirits subside.

He tells of the Banjo, Henry, J C,
when he’s pouring his soul out, to old mugs like me.
If “it’s honest to God”, Billy can tell.
And he’ll pick out the knot from the yarn, just as well.

I recall once, as we sat down to tea,
when he told us how ‘Gotchas’ will hide up a tree.
To flickering flames, his eyes became wide,
with his ashen face grateful for Nipper beside.

Be it ‘Albany Road’, ‘Bluey McNab’,
or old ‘Hobo the Bitza’ - attention he’ll grab.
So sit for a yarn, as Billy warms up.
Give a rest to Matilda and pass Bill your cup.

As age wearies me, my wallaby tires,
and I think I can feel when my rego expires,
I know the one thing to comfort me still
is the “dinky-di Gospel“, according to Bill.