The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #88017   Message #1647736
Posted By: freda underhill
13-Jan-06 - 09:15 AM
Thread Name: What can you Not write songs about?
Subject: RE: What can you Not write songs about?
these are the words of the version i have linked to, Sinsull

The Maid of Australia   
Sung by Harry Cox.

Recorded by Peter Kennedy and Alan Lomax in Catfield, Norfolk, England, in 1953.

As I walked down by the Hawkesbury banks,
Where the maids of Australia do play their wild pranks.
Beneath a green shady bower I sat myself down,
Where the birds sang so gaily enchanted all round,
In the forest of native Australia,
Where the maidens are handsome and gay.
Additional verses:

[As I sat a-viewing this beautiful scene,
When a pretty fair damsel I happened to see.
She must be going swimming, or so it would seem,
For she laid down her clothing beside the clear stream,
By the stream of her native Australia,
Where the maidens are handsome and gay.

She stripped off her clothing, before me she stood,
As naked as Venus that rose from the flood.
She blushed with confusion and smiling said she,
"For these are the clothes that Australia gave me,
The day I was born in Australia,
Where the maidens are handsome and gay."]

Now, she dived in the water without fear or dread
Her beautiful limbs she exceedingly spread
Her hair hung in wringles, her colour was black.
"Sir," said she, "you ivill see how I float on my back
On the stream in my native Australia."
Where the maidens are handsome and gay.

Now, bein' exhausted, she came to the brink,
"Assistance, kind sir, or I surely shall sink."
As quick as the lightnin' I took hold of her hand
My foot slipped and we fell on the sand.
Then I entered the bush of Australia,
Just as the sun went down.

Noiv, we frolicked together in the highest of glee,
In the finest Australia you ever did see.
The sun it went down and the clouds did resign,
Then I left the fair maid of Australia,
Theft I left the fair maid of Australia,

Just as the sun went down.
Now, six months being over
and nine being come,

This pretty fair maid, she brought forth a fine son.
O where was his father? He could not be found,
And she cursed the hour that she lay on the ground,
In her native, the plains of Australia,
Where the maidens are handsome and gay.