If you stand on Lambton Quay,
On Friday night then you will see,
in rain and snow the trampers go,
To the Tararua Ranges.

Away, away with billy and pack,
A rollicking down the mountain track,
We'll all get lost and never come back,
In the Tararua Ranges.

Hear them holler and hear them bawl,
As up the Marchant Ridge they crawl,  
And all they see is nothing at all,
In the Tararua Ranges.

Away, Away, etc.

Into a hut we go to sup
A dirty plate, a greasy cup,
The girls will have to smarten up,
In the Tararua Ranges.

Away Away, etc.

The Secretary can't read or write,
She sleeps all day and eats all night,
And if she could, she'd ride a bike,
In the Tararua Ranges.

Away, Away, etc.

The President is old and grey,
They say-he's ninety-nine today,
He's reached that age by staying away,
From the Tararua Ranges

Away, Away, etc.

The Treasurer went on the bash,
And drank up all the available cash,
And now he's got big rocks to smash,
In the Tararua Ranges.

Away, Away, etc.

The Chief Guide's getting old and grey.
He's lost the track three times today
He'll never find it anyway.
In the Tararua Ranges.

Away, Away, etc.

So if you're under ninety-three,
And find your life a misery,
You'd better come along with me,
To the Tararua Ranges.

Away, Away, etc.