| Lyrics
& Liner Notes
All items “Traditional Australian’ and of unknown
authorship unless otherwise noted.
1. The Shoemakers'
Fancy
'The Shoemaker's Fancy' comes
from the fiddle playing of singer and dance musician Simon McDonald
(1907 - 1968) of Creswick, Victoria.
2. The Isle
of France
Our source for this traditional
song was Ron Edwards’ ‘Overlander Songbook’,
although we have altered the timing of the tune slightly. Ron
collected the song from Mrs M. Webb of Cairns, QLD (b. 1893).
Mrs Webb learned the song (as ‘The Ile de France’)
as a young girl in the Tilba Tilba area of Southern NSW. While
she could sing just one verse for the collector, she recalled
that her father’s version concluded with the convict arriving
on the Victorian goldfields and being killed in a miner’s
uprising - possibly the Eureka Stockade! The remainder of Ron's
text is drawn from “Folk Songs from Sussex”, 1912.
The Isle of France is now ‘Mauritius’.
Oh the sky was dark and the night advanced,
When a convict came to the Isle of France,
And round his leg was a ringing chain,
And his country was of the shamrock green.
I’m from “The Shamrock” this
convict cried,
That has been tossed on the ocean wide.
For being unruly, I do declare,
I was doomed to transport these seven long years.
When six of them they were up and passed,
I was coming home to make up the last,
When the winds did blow and the seas did roar;
They cast me here on this foreign shore.
So then the coastguard he played a part
And with some brandy cheered the convict’s heart,
“Although the night is far advanced
You shall find a friend on the Isle of France.”
So he sent a letter all to the Queen,
Concerning the wreck of “The Shamrock Green”,
And his freedom came by a speedy post
For the absent convict they thought was lost.
“God bless the coastguard,” this
convict cried,
“For he’s saved my life from the ocean wide,
I’ll drink his health in a flowing glass
And here’s success to the Isle of France!”
3. Sixteen Thousand Miles
from Home
In John Meredith’s ‘Folksongs
of Australia Vol. 1’ there are two versions of this song.
Jason sings Jack Wright of Coogee's version, with a few minor
lyric changes.
Well I'm sixteen thousand miles from home, my
heart is fairly aching
To think that I should humble so; to come out here stone-breaking.
On the road I took to Castlemaine I met a sub-contractor.
He eyed me and studied me as a parson or a doctor.
With me hooral looral tiddy falooral, tiddy falooral li do.
Now I told him I was out of work, I wanted some
employment.
Said he "You do, you stink with scent, you've had to much
enjoyment.
Go over onto yonder hill, get from that bloke a hammer,
And nine and six it is your pay - and mind you now, that's grammar!"
With me hooral looral tiddy falooral, tiddy falooral li do.
So I battered and whacked the whole of the day,
at evening I grew spiteful
With the sight - I didn't know what to do, I hadn't broke my hatful.
Just then the boss he came along, said he, "You'll have to
alter,
You'll be getting no run of the store, by God, you haven't earned
your salt, Sir!"
With me hooral looral tiddy falooral, tiddy falooral li do.
So I chucked my hammer down on the heap, with
that I did consider.
Well, I knocked the dust from off my boots and I battered my old
black beaver.
Bad luck then to my mum and dad, they reared me up so lazy,
With a silver spoon I'm a regular loon; with hunger I'm very near
crazy!
With me hooral looral tiddy falooral, tiddy falooral li do.
Well I'll go and join the army, I'll go and
enlist the rifle
And if I get shot I'll forget the lot, all hunger and all trifle!
With me hooral looral tiddy falooral, tiddy falooral li do.
4. The Wild Colonial
Boy
This unique tune has been preserved by
the Bobbin family of The Nullica near Eden. Only when siblings
Carrie Milliner (b. 1926), Tom Bobbin and Nance Burton were all
together for a recording session with Rob Willis could they remember
their dad’s great tune complete with the spoken section.
The Bobbin version has that all important “venom and a stamp
of the foot”, as John Dengate would say.
There was a Wild Colonial Boy, Jack Doolan was
his name,
Of poor but honest parents, he was born in Castlemaine.
He was his father's idol, his mother's pride and joy,
And dearly did his parents love the Wild Colonial Boy.
At scarcely sixteen years of age he left his father's home,
And to Australia's sunny shores a bushranger did roam.
They put him in the iron gang in the government employ,
But never iron on earth could hold the Wild Colonial Boy.
So come away my hearties, we'll roam the mountainside,
Together we will plunder, together we will die.
We'll scour along the valleys and gallop o'er the plains,
And scorn to live in slavery, bound down in iron chains.
In sixty-one this daring youth commenced his
wild career.
With a heart that knew no danger, no foeman did he fear.
He stuck up the mail coach and robbed Judge McEvoy,
Who trembled and gave up his gold to the Wild Colonial Boy.
e bade the judge good morning and told him to
beware,
That he'd never rob a needy man who acted on the square
But a judge who'd rob a mother of her son and only joy,
He must be a worse outlaw than the Wild Colonial Boy.
So come away my hearties...
One day as Jack was riding the mountainside
alone,
A listening to the little birds; their happy, laughing song,
Three mounted troopers came along, Kelly, Davis and Fitzroy,
With a warrant for the capture of the Wild Colonial Boy.
"Surrender now Jack Doolan for you see
it’s three to one.
Surrender now Jack Doolan, you daring highwayman!"
Jack drew a pistol from his belt and shook the little toy,
"I'll fight, but not surrender!" cried the Wild Colonial
Boy.
He fired at trooper Kelly and brought him to the ground,
And in return from Davis he received a mortal wound.
All shattered through the jaw he lay, still firing at Fitzroy,
And that's the way they captured him, the Wild Colonial Boy.
So come away my hearties..
5. Jack's Last Resting
Place
Learned from a recording of A.L. Lloyd.
The song was introduced to us by David De Santi and Jane Brownlee
- another rare gem discovered during their Fellowship at the NLA.
Come old friend and come with me,
I'll show you poor Jack's grave,
Beneath a violet myall tree
Out near a wombat's cave.
We never more will hear him talk,
Nor see his kindly face,
So come me lads and with me ride
To Jack's last resting place.
He won't round up wild cattle no more,
Nor run wild horses again,
And no more make his stockwhip roar
While galloping o'er the plain.
He's resting in his last long sleep,
And may get God's grace.
Surely we're not too hard to weep
At Jack's last resting place.
One day as Jack was strapping on
His rug and his quart pot,
He said he'd try the wild mob,
And he put his horse in a trot.
He never returned from that trip,
No sign of him could we trace,
Until the black boys found his whip
By Jack's last resting place.
He was holding in his skeleton hand
His quart scribbled on with a knife,
And the words, they made my hair stand,
Showed how Jack lost his life.
He said, “Me horse fell on me thigh,
It is a hopeless case,
So I must linger here all day,
This plain, me resting place.
My brain is like a burning coal,
As alone in the bush I lie,
With a sinful life upon me soul,
How hard it is to die.
I perish here in pain and thirst,
Death's brand upon me face;
My sufferings are those of the damned,
Here in me resting place".
Come all you bushmen wild and gay,
Take warning by Jack's fate;
Prepare now for your last day -
Repent before it's too late.
You wild and reckless men beware,
For death you must all face -
Don't curse and drink and gamble,
Think of Jack's last resting place.
6.
I’ve Been A Wild Boy
Learned from a recording of legendary
bush singer and dance musician Sally Sloane (1894 - 1982). Sally
learned this song from a gold miner, Harry Bartlett, who worked
with her father in Parkes, NSW when she was a young girl.
Oh my father he died and left me his estate,
I married a lady whose fortune was great,
And through keeping bad company I’ve spent all my store
-
I have been a wild boy, but I’ll be so no more.
Oh there was Bill, Tom and Harry and Betsy and
Sue,
And two or three others belonged to our crew.
We sat up ‘til midnight and made the town roar -
Oh, I’ve been a wild boy, but I’ll be so no more.
I was always too fond of treating ladies to
wine,
‘Til my pockets grew empty too soon I would find,
Twenty pounds in one night, oh I’ve spent them and more
-
Oh I’ve been a wild boy, but I’ll be so no more.
Oh it’s first down to Newgate a prisoner
I went.
I had on cold irons, I had to lament,
And I had to find comfort as I lay on the floor -
Oh I’ve been a wild boy, but I’ll be so no more.
Oh the next down to Newgate a prisoner I stand
And what I have longed for is now out of hand,
And if ever I gain my liberty as I have before,
Oh I’ll be a good boy, as I have been before.
Oh bad luck to all married men who visit strange
doors!
I’ve done so myself, but I’ll do so no more;
I’ll go home to my family, I’ll go home to my wife,
And I’ll be a good boy all the rest of my life.
7.
There She Goes / Blackberry Blossom
‘There She Goes' comes from the
playing of Harry Jackson, and was introduced to us by David De
Santi and Jane Brownlee.
‘Blackberry Blossom' is from Sally Sloane.
8. The Broken Down
Digger
Verses 1 & 4 by ‘McAllister
of Goulburn, NSW' as they appeared in the original edition of
Stewart & Keesing's ‘Australian Bush Ballads'. Verses
2 & 3 by Bill Scott.
The tune comes from Bob Rummery of Sorrento, WA who introduced
us to the song.
LISTEN
I worked on the Nine Mile and out on the river,
Out on the New Chums and Rocky Plains too;
And at each of those places I have done my endeavour,
But I've lately struck duffers with nothing in view.
I've sold off my shovel, my pick and my dishes;
I've rolled up my swag, I'm leaving today.
Bequeathing my claim to a new chum who wishes
To bail the meltwater and slide in the clay.
Goodbye to the Snowy, farewell to Kit's Diner,
Adieu to the girls at the Empire Hotel.
There's no farewell kiss for a broken down digger
Who's blued all his nuggets and the fine stuff as well.
And it's Oh! But I'm longing to see the old
places,
I'm longing to see Old Sydney again;
For I'm tired of the Snowy's wide hills and wild graces,
I'm a broken down digger on the Kiandra plain.
9.
You Can't Change It
Composed by the late Arthur ‘Spendlow’
Baulch (d. 1940), and introduced to us by Rob Willis. Arthur’s
sons, ‘The Baulch Brothers’ sang this song around
their local Kerang Shire in Victoria, and farther afield, as part
of their enormous and varied repertoire. John Meredith and Rob
Willis spent a lively day recording the brothers -
“This was on the 10th of March 1990. The day was one of
the most memorable in my collecting career. Both John and I could
not stop laughing.”
- Rob Willis.
Oh, I know a lot of lazy men, meet them when
you may,
They've never got a penny, always stony broke they say.
WIth me it's just the other way, I'm a man of biz,
I've always got a shilling in my pocket - here it is -
But I can't change it, I can't change it,
The reason why I'll let you know, it's one I made myself and so
I can't change it, I don't intend to try -
But I hope to cheat a blind man in the sweet by and by.
Oh, I never was a proud man, as anyone can see,
Fashions I don't care about and clothes don't trouble me.
I never was a masher, for I'm satisfied to know,
I've got but one shirt to my back I can say that, although
I can't change it, I can't change it,
I've got but one shirt to my back and it fits me like a bloomin'
sack,
I can't change it, I don't intend to try -
So while it's being washed I lie in bed until it's dry.
Oh, I thought that I'd get married like a lot
of foolish men,
I found the girl and bought the ring, got married there and then.
But when the job was over I was down a peg,
Her hair, her eyes, her teeth were false and she had a wooden
leg.
Well, I can't change it, I can't change it,
It was a great surprise to me - half a woman, half a tree!
And I can't change it, I don't intend to try -
So I'll chop her up for firewood in the sweet by and by.
When I came home the other night, the nurse
was at the door.
She said, "You've got another one, that makes you just a
score,
Such a pretty little girl, I hope you'll wish her joy."
Well I wished her to old Nick, for what I wanted was a boy!
Well, I can't change it, I can't change it,
I asked a lot who ought to know,
I asked the nurse and she said, "no",
She can't change it, she doesn't intend to try -
But she hopes I’ll have a dozen in the sweet by and by.
10. Maryborough
Miner
Learned from the singing of the late Jacko
Kevans. Originally collected by A.L. Lloyd from
Bob Bell of Condobolin, NSW, in 1934, it’s a mining version
of ‘Murrumbidgee Shearer'.
Come all you sons of liberty and listen to my
song,
I'll sing you my observations and it won’t take very long.
I've fossicked around this continent five thousand miles or more,
And many's the time I might have starved but for the cheek I bore.
I've been on all the diggings, boys, from famous
Ballarat,
I've long-tommed on the Lachlan and I've fossicked Lambing Flat.
So you may understand me, boys, just from this little rhyme,
I'm a Maryborough miner and I'm one of the good old time.
I came to Fitzroy River all with my Bendigo
rig,
I had a shovel, a pick and pan and for a licence I begged.
But the assay man called me a loafer, said for work I'd no desire,
And so to do him justice, boys, I set his office on fire.
Oh yes, my jolly jokers, I've done it on the
cross.
Although I carry my bluey now I've sweated many a horse.
I've helped to rob the escort of many an ounce of gold,
And the traps have trailed upon my tail more times than I've ever
told.
Oh yes the traps have trailed me and been frightened
out of their stripes.
They never could have caught me for they feared my cure for gripes.
And well they knew I carried it as they had often seen it,
A-Glistening in my flipper chaps my patent pill machine.
I'm one of the men who cradled on the reef at
Tarrangower -
Anxiety and misery my grim companions there.
I puddled the clay at Bendigo and I chanced my arm at Kew,
And I wound up my avocations with ten years on Cockatoo.
I've been on all the diggings boys...
11.
The Very Particular Waltz / Charlie Kyle's Schottische / Bill
McCoy's Set Tune
‘The Very Particular Waltz' comes
from Stan Treacy of Limerick, NSW and was introduced to us by
Dave De Hugard.
Charlie Kyle was a fiddler from a family of well known dance musicians
in the Nulla Nulla Creek / Kempsey area of NSW. Fortunately for
all of us, Charlie had the foresight to record a great selection
of his dance tunes to tape shortly before he died.
Bill McCoy was a dance musician based in Tasmania. We learned
the tune from a recording made by his daughter-in-law, the wonderful
Eileen McCoy.
12.
The Indian Lass / Charlie Kyle’s Mazurka
We learned this song from a recording
by Barry McDonald and Marooan. The song was collected by Chis
Sullivan from Mrs Hazel Vale of Armidale, and was often sung amongst
the indigenous Aboriginal women of the area. The verses pertaining
to the night’s antics have been censored in this version,
leaving a simpler and more poignant tale.
13.
Red Rose Top
The tune and verses 2 and 5 come from
a recording of Sally Sloane. We completed the story by choosing
verses from various versions from around the world. Sally learned
the song from her grandmother.
Come all you maids, where e'er you be,
Who flourish in your prime, prime,
Be wise, beware, keep you garden clean,
Let no man steal your thyme, your thyme,
Let no man steal your thyme.
For when your thyme is pulled and gone,
They care no more for you, you.
There's not a place your thyme goes waste,
But it spreads all o'er with rue, with rue,
But it spreads all o'er with rue.
When I was a maid both fair and coy,
I flourished in my prime, prime,
‘Til a proper, tall and handsome boy
He stole this heart of mine, of mine,
He stole this heart of mine.
The gardener's son being standing by,
Three gifts he gave to me, me:
The bitter rue, the violet blue,
And the red rose it was three, was three,
The red rose it was three.
But I'll cut off the red rose top,
And plant the willow green, green,
In all the world that you may see,
It's slighted I have been, have been,
It's slighted I have been.
The begotten virgins they must live,
Although they live in pain, pain -
But the grass that’s mown on yonder hill
Through time will bloom again, again,
Through time will bloom again.
Note:
Thyme - Activity; Courage; Grace;
Domestic values
Red Rose - Romantic love; Respect; Courage
Violet - Faithfulness
Rue - Disdain; Go; never return; Contempt;
Beware of excess pleasures
Willow - Forsaken; Grieving
Grass - Usefulness; Submission
14. Farewell to Greta
We were inspired to learn this song after
hearing Alex Hood sing it at Mt Beauty, VIC (Kelly country). Alex
collected this tune and text from Tim McMahon of Michelago in
1970, who learned the song in childhood, possibly from his mother.
We found Tim’s version in Brad Tate's ‘Down and Outback’
songbook. In his introduction Brad Tate describes the tune as
a “variant of ‘Caledonio’... perhaps this, a
farewell song itself, inspired the local verses”.
This conversation between Ned Kelly and his sister Kate is set
just after the gun battle at Stringybark Creek where three police
died.
Farewell my home in Greta now, my sister Kate
farewell,
It breaks my heart that we must part, but here I dare not dwell;
The brand of Cain is on my brow, my hands are stained with gore,
So I must roam the forest wide, throughout the Australian shore.
Even now the price is on my head, the bloodhounds
on my trail,
All for the sake of gaining gold my freedom they’d assail,
But if they cross or check my path, by all I hold on earth,
I'll give them cause to rue the day their mothers gave them birth!
I'll shoot them down like kangaroos that roam
our country wide,
And leave their bodies bleaching upon some woodland side,
A prey to every prowling bird, the hawk and carrion crow.
It's thus I'd serve the cowardly curs who's cause my overthrow!
Oh Edward, dearest brother, surely you would
not go
So rashly to encounter with such a mighty foe?
Oh, don't you know that Sydney and Melbourne are combined,
And for your apprehension, Ned, warrants are duly signed?
To eastward lies great Morgan's Tower, and reaching
to the sky
North-east by east the mighty range of Gippsland's mountains lie.
You know the country well, dear Ned, go take your comrades there,
And profit from your knowledge of the wombat and the bear.
And let no childish quarrelling cause trouble
in the gang,
But stick with one another and guard our brother Dan;
See yonder ride four troopers, one kiss before we part,
Now haste to join your comrades there, Joe Byrne and Stevie Hart.
15.
The Reedy Lagoon
We learned this version mainly from a
recording of the late Michael O'Rourke.
We'd also like to acknowledge the influence of Greg O'Leary and
the 'Harvest Moon Band' who recorded the song on their CD, 'In
Some Old Shed'.
The sweet smelling wattle blows perfume around
Enticing the bird and the bee,
As I lie here at rest on fern-covered nest
In the shade of a kurrajong-tree.
And high overhead I can hear the sweet strains
Of a butcher-bird piping her tune,
For spring in her glory has come once again
To the banks of the Reedy Lagoon.
My swag I have carried for many's the mile,
My boots are worn out at the toes,
And I'm dressing this season in a far different style
To that of last season, God knows!
My cooking utensils, I'm sorry to say,
Consist of a knife and a spoon,
But there's bread, beef and tea in a battered jackshay
On the banks of the Reedy Lagoon.
And where is the lady I often caressed,
The one with the deep, dreamy eyes?
She pillows her head on some other man's breast,
And he tells her the very same lies.
I doubt now that she would be willing to share
As I eat by the light of the moon.
But it's little I care, for it's hard to keep square,
On the banks of the Reedy Lagoon.
Where's Jackie The Breaker? Lord, couldn’t
he could ride!
And Jimmy, the kind-hearted boy?
I hear that of late he has taken a bride,
A benedict's life to enjoy.
And Big Jock the stockman, I once heard him say
He'd wrestle the famous Muldoon -
But they're all far away, and I'm lonely today,
On the banks of the Reedy Lagoon.
16.
His Epitaph
These words were written in 1910 by the
late Frederick Ophel ('Prospect Good') of WA.
The striking tune is by Bob Rummery, who introduced us to the
song.
He lies here. See the bush
All grey through grief for him;
Hoar scrub - like ashes cast -
Sprinkles the valley grim.
The saltbush his shroud,
Wide skies his only pall,
And ‘in memoriam’,
A thousand stamp-heads fall.
Gold-lured to death - and yet
He would have had it so.
Say mass, sing requiem
With the grey bush - and go.
Quietly he has found
Here in the Golden West,
The long-sought-for at last,
An El Dorado blest.
Thanks
This recording is dedicated to the late Jacko
Kevans. We will always treasure his inspiration, education and
friendship.
Thanks to the collectors including:
John Meredith, Rob WiIlis, Alan Musgrove, John Harpley, Chris
Sullivan, Mark Rummery, Brad Tate, Ron Edwards, David De Hugard,
Bill Scott, Barry McDonald, Alex Hood and others who have tirelessly
recorded our cultural heritage.
Thanks to Bob Rummery for sending such fantastic
songs our way. The soul of ‘Daisy Hill’ was drawn
from this material.
A special thanks to Rob Willis for his ongoing
help and for introducing us to fantastic material from his collection.
Thanks to the National Library of Australia
and to David De Santi of Carrawobbity Press for their work in
preserving and publishing collected Australian music.
Special thanks to Roy & Thelma Roweth for
allowing us to roam ‘Bellevue’, Springhill NSW for
many of these photographs.
(Other photos taken in Millthorpe NSW, including the Millthorpe
Golden Memories Museum ore stamp.)
Thanks also to Andy Busuttil for his generosity,
skills and good advice during recording. |
