Look, there's the Alibama,
the Alibama coming over the sea
Hey girl, my reed bed
made especially for me
my reed bed, my reed bed,
to sleep on naturally
The Alibama

My feet are going to Wellington
but Worcester is my goal
my feet take the road to Wellington,
but to Worcester I shall go

Tonight is the night for harvesting,
let us cut the corn
My sweetheart hangs on the bush
She's hanging on the bitter-berry bush
Wave to the Alibama