Mudcat Australia-New Zealand Songbook

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 13 May 21 - 08:07 PM

Great stuff, R-J. Bob Campbell is new to me. I couldn't agree more with you comments about Australia's inaction in respect of West Papua.

ARNOLD AP
(Alan Scott)

Where the people sing in the jungle trees
The songs they’ve sung for centuries
Melanesian melodies
Arnold Ap was one of these
A small brown man in the land next door
His voice is silent, he’ll sing no more
I wonder what they killed him for
He loved his people as I love mine
The stories told in dance and rhyme
Songs that came from an older time
Who’d have thought it would be a crime?

In the year of 1968, in the United Nations a big debate
Irian Jaya is a separate state
But there might be copper and there could be gold
There’s all that timber could be cut and sold
Democracy is put on hold
Now Indonesia’s in control
And since the Indonesians came, things can never be the same
Transmigration is the game
But Arnold went around the land with a tape recorder in his hand
Taped his people and the songs they sang
Arnold Ap was a dangerous man

He sent his tapes across the sea
To Honiara and Port Morseby
Melanesian harmony
But sedition takes the strangest shape
Some find it in the music tape
Thrown in jail was Arnold’s fate
Then killed when trying to escape
But his voice is there in the evening breeze
In songs sung down the centuries
Melanesian melodies

Arnold Ap is dead and gone
His spirit lives in his people’s song
People and land and soul are one
And his name will live while the fight goes on
While the fight goes on

I have no YT clip or audio for this one. The above is my transcription from a CD by Alan Scott and Keith McKenry 'Travelling through the storm'. Unfortunately, my copy from Trad & Now came minus the booklet. I think the lyrics are accurate, but I have no idea of the stanza or even line structure. It would be great if someone could correct it.

Arnold Ap

Singing for life

--Stewie.

The booklet doesn't have the lyrics, but it has these notes, written by Keith McKenry:

In 1963 Indonesia gained control of the former Dutch colony of West New Guinea, an act given legitimacy in 1968 by a farcical plebiscite (an "Act of Free Choice") overseen by the United Nations. Since that time there has been an on-going campaign of resistance by some ethnic Papuans to Indonesian rule.

Alan was profoundly moved by the story of Arnold Ap, curator of the Papuan Collection at the Anthropological Museum of Centerwashi University in Irian Jaya. Arnold was killed by Indonesian authorities in April 1983, supposedly while trying to escape lawful custody. He had been held without charges for alleged pro-resistance activities. Seemingly however, his real crime was collecting for posterity the songs and music of his people. "That could have been me," Alan observed, and wrote this, one of his few original songs. Published in the Cornstalk Gazette, July 1990.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: rich-joy
Date: 13 May 21 - 08:37 PM

Stew, I discovered Bob Campbell via Jeff Corfield! I posted Bob's song about Darcy Dugan last year sometime and I'll add his aboriginal stuff soon (ish!)
R-J

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 14 May 21 - 12:37 AM

Gerry, I presume it was you who added the note to my previous post. Thanks.

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 14 May 21 - 05:10 AM

Bobby Campbell's memoir well worth reading

Bobby & John Dengate old mates from way back

Bob writes great songs & I can only find one of his songs on youtube
Bob Campbell singing Darcy Duggan - video

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: rich-joy
Date: 14 May 21 - 06:09 AM

Yes, I believe that biography (Giants Leap) was only Part 1 :
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bPvDoMbnRH4    - d'y know if the next volume has been done??

I posted one of the 2 x YT versions of his 'Darcy Dugan' back on Jan 4th 2021 (one with his band, Home Rule and one solo).
I also obtained Darcy's posthumous autobiography from the Library - VERY interesting - crikey, between the NSW cops and Joh's QLD cops, I reckon there's not much any crims could teach 'em!!!

Following on from one of Stewie's postings earlier this year, my next project for this Songbook will be the songs about Aboriginal warriors (who should be as well-known as the colonial bushrangers!),
so Bob Campbell's Windradyne and Jimmy Governor will be included then in that batch.


Cheers, R-J

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 14 May 21 - 10:34 PM

just found an interesting website The Institute of Australian Culture Heritage, history, and heroes; literature, legends, and larrikins; stories, songs, and sages

CLANCY OF THE OVERFLOW by Banjo Paterson

I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just "on spec", addressed as follows, "Clancy, of The Overflow".

And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar)
Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
"Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are."

In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving "down the Cooper" where the Western drovers go;
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.

And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars.

I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,
And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty city
Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all

And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street,
And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,
Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet.

And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me
As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,
With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,
For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.

And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy,
Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,
While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal —
But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of "The Overflow".

Wallis & Matilda released their first album in 1980 and had a top 40 hit that same year with “Clancy of the Overflow”.
No wonder I remembered the tune!

video - Clancy of the Overflow (Wallis & Matilda)

Wikipedia - Wallis and Matilda are an Australian group that interpret the works of Australian bush poet, Banjo Paterson.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 14 May 21 - 10:47 PM

more on Wallis & Matilda, interpreters of the works of Banjo Paterson. Wallis & Matilda

Wallis & Matilda on youtube

Wallis & Matilda - links to sound clips of the 65 Paterson songs they recorded OMG, a gold min, wot a resource for singers & those of us who list songs!!

videos of 2 of these songs are on The Institute of Australian Culture Heritage, history, and heroes;, so I'll post them & maybe then resume my search for a LAWSON song I was after!

tho of course, this gold mine might have other good stuff that needs harvesting ...

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 14 May 21 - 10:54 PM

A BUSH CHRISTENING by Banjo Paterson - music by Wallis & Matilda

video - Walls & Matilda

On the outer Barcoo where the churches are few,
And men of religion are scanty,
On a road never cross’d ’cept by folk that are lost,
One Michael Magee had a shanty.

Now this Mike was the dad of a ten year old lad,
Plump, healthy, and stoutly conditioned;
He was strong as the best, but poor Mike had no rest
For the youngster had never been christened.

And his wife used to cry, ‘If the darlin’ should die
‘Saint Peter would not recognize him.’
But by luck he survived till a preacher arrived,
Who agreed straightaway to baptize him.

Now the artful young rogue, while they held their collogue,
With his ear to the keyhole was listenin’,
And he muttered in fright, while his features turned white,
‘What the divil and all is this christenin’?’

He was none of your dolts, he had seen them brand colts,
And it seemed to his small understanding,
If the man in the frock made him one of the flock,
It must mean something very like branding.

So away with a rush he set off for the bush,
While the tears in his eyelids they glistened —
‘’Tis outrageous,’ says he, ‘to brand youngsters like me,
‘I’ll be dashed if I’ll stop to be christened!’

Like a young native dog he ran into a log,
And his father with language uncivil,
Never heeding the ‘praste’ cried aloud in his haste
’Come out and be christened, you divil!’

But he lay there as snug as a bug in a rug,
And his parents in vain might reprove him,
Till his reverence spoke (he was fond of a joke)
‘I’ve a notion,’ says he, ‘that’ll move him.’

‘Poke a stick up the log, give the spalpeen a prog;
‘Poke him aisy — don’t hurt him or maim him;
‘’Tis not long that he’ll stand, I’ve the water at hand,
‘As he rushes out this end I’ll name him.

‘Here he comes, and for shame, ye’ve forgotten the name —
‘Is it Patsy or Michael or Dinnis?’
Here the youngster ran out, and the priest gave a shout —
‘Take your chance, anyhow, wid ‘Maginnis’!’

As the howling young cub ran away to the scrub
Where he knew that pursuit would be risky,
The priest, as he fled, flung a flask at his head
That was labelled ‘Maginnis’s Whisky!’

And Maginnis Magee has been made a J.P.,
And the one thing he hates more than sin is
To be asked by the folk who have heard of the joke,
How he came to be christened ‘Maginnis’!

note - Previously published in: The Bulletin, 16 December 1893

Editor’s notes:
collogue = to talk privately; confer secretly
praste = a rendering of the word “priest” in an Irish accent
spalpeen = scamp or rascal; from the Irish Gaelic “spailpin”, a seasonal laborer, itinerant worker, or rascal

Wallis & Matilda on youtube

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 14 May 21 - 11:04 PM

THE MAN FROM SNOWY RIVER by Banjo Paterson music by Wallis & Matilda

There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from Old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses — he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.

There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up —
He would go wherever horse and man could go.
And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,
No better horseman ever held the reins;
For never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand,
He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.

And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast,
He was something like a racehorse undersized,
With a touch of Timor pony — three parts thoroughbred at least —
And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry — just the sort that won’t say die —
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.

But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,
And the old man said, “That horse will never do
For a long and tiring gallop — lad, you’d better stop away,
Those hills are far too rough for such as you.”
So he waited sad and wistful — only Clancy stood his friend —
“I think we ought to let him come,” he said;
“I warrant he’ll be with us when he’s wanted at the end,
For both his horse and he are mountain bred.”

“He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko’s side,
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,
Where a horse’s hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,
The man that holds his own is good enough.
And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,
Where the river runs those giant hills between;
I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,
But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen.”

So he went — they found the horses by the big mimosa clump —
They raced away towards the mountain’s brow,
And the old man gave his orders, “Boys, go at them from the jump,
No use to try for fancy riding now.
And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.
Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those hills.”

So Clancy rode to wheel them — he was racing on the wing
Where the best and boldest riders take their place,
And he raced his stock-horse past them, and he made the ranges ring
With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face.
Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash,
But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,
And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash,
And off into the mountain scrub they flew.

Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black
Resounded to the thunder of their tread,
And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back
From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.
And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way,
Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;
And the old man muttered fiercely, “We may bid the mob good day,
No man can hold them down the other side.”

When they reached the mountain’s summit, even Clancy took a pull,
It well might make the boldest hold their breath,
The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.
But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,
And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,
And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.

He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,
He cleared the fallen timber in his stride,
And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat —
It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.
Through the stringy barks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,
Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;
And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound,
At the bottom of that terrible descent.

He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill,
And the watchers on the mountain standing mute,
Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still,
As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.
Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met
In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,
With the man from Snowy River at their heels.

And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam.
He followed like a bloodhound on their track,
Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home,
And alone and unassisted brought them back.
But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,
He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;
But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,
For never yet was mountain horse a cur.

And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze
At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,
And where around the Overflow the reedbeds sweep and sway
To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
The man from Snowy River is a household word to-day,
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.

Source:
Andrew Barton Paterson. The Man from Snowy River and Other Verses, Angus & Robertson, Sydney, 1896 [January 1896 reprinting of the October 1895 edition], pages 3-9
Previously published in: The Bulletin, 21 December 1889
Editor’s notes:
beetled = jutting or overhanging (from beetle-browed, i.e. having heavy overhanging eyebrows); not to be confused with “beetled” as in someone who has scurried off or “beetled off” (moved like a beetle)
Clancy of the Overflow = a character, who was an expert stockman, created by Banjo Paterson for his poem “Clancy of the Overflow”

2 clips from the movie Man from Snowy River (1982) directed by George Miller, posted on Youtube by Frederick Roberts. Artist - Wallis and Matilda, Album - Banjo The Bard Of The Bush - 30th Anniversary Musical Tribute to A.B. (Banjo) Paterson

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 14 May 21 - 11:31 PM

I've just finished watching the videos - wow! It was fantastic.

I've never had a TV & haven't seen a movie since the early 80s, & they were rare events. I occasionally watch songs on youtube, sometimes I might even binge & watch half a dozen or more ... I'm just not a watcher!

We got a TV when I was 14 & I watched bits & pieces until I moved out about 10 years later, did I say I'm just not a watcher?, but I really enjoyed the action, & also found myself wondering how today's movie makers would have done that scene as I watched the same background flashing past.

sandra (who has even been known to book acts without looking at their videos! Bookings are based on reputations, of course, we only get the best acts!!)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 14 May 21 - 11:34 PM

TO AN OLD MATE
(H.Lawson/J.Schumann)

Old Mate! In the gusty old weather
When our hopes and our troubles were new
In the years we spent in wearing out leather
I found you unselfish and true
I have gathered these songs together
For the sake of our friendship and you
And I send them along instead of the letters
I promised to write to you

I remember, Old Man, I remember
The tracks that we followed are clear
The jovial last nights of December
The solemn first days of the year
Long tramps through the clearings and timber
Short partings on platform and pier
I remember, Old Man, I remember
The tracks that we followed are clear

I can still feel the spirit that bore us
And often the old stars will shine
I remember the last spree in chorus
For the sake of that other Lang Syne,
When the tracks lay divided before us
Your path through the future and mine
I can still feel the spirit that bore us
And often the old stars will shine

You will find in these pages a trace of
That side of our past which was bright
And recognise sometimes the face of a friend
A friend who has dropped out of sight
I have gathered these songs together
For the sake of our friendship and you
And I send them along instead of the letters
I promised to write to you

As recorded by John Schumann on 'Lawson' and 'Behind the Lines' albums. He made some omissions and alterations.

The original poem

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 15 May 21 - 06:45 AM

MULGA BILL'S BICYCLE by Banjo Paterson

video - Walls & Matilda

'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze;
He turned away the good old horse that served him many days;
He dressed himself in cycling clothes, resplendent to be seen;
He hurried off to town and bought a shining new machine;
And as he wheeled it through the door, with air of lordly pride,
The grinning shop assistant said, `Excuse me, can you ride?'

`See, here, young man,' said Mulga Bill, `from Walgett to the sea,
From Conroy's Gap to Castlereagh, there's none can ride like me.
I'm good all round at everything, as everybody knows,
Although I'm not the one to talk -- I HATE a man that blows.
But riding is my special gift, my chiefest, sole delight;
Just ask a wild duck can it swim, a wild cat can it fight.
There's nothing clothed in hair or hide, or built of flesh or steel,
There's nothing walks or jumps, or runs, on axle, hoof, or wheel,
But what I'll sit, while hide will hold and girths and straps are tight:
I'll ride this here two-wheeled concern right straight away at sight.'

'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that sought his own abode,
That perched above the Dead Man's Creek, beside the mountain road.
He turned the cycle down the hill and mounted for the fray,
But ere he'd gone a dozen yards it bolted clean away.
It left the track, and through the trees, just like a silver streak,
It whistled down the awful slope, towards the Dead Man's Creek.

It shaved a stump by half an inch, it dodged a big white-box:
The very wallaroos in fright went scrambling up the rocks,
The wombats hiding in their caves dug deeper underground,
As Mulga Bill, as white as chalk, sat tight to every bound.
It struck a stone and gave a spring that cleared a fallen tree,
It raced beside a precipice as close as close could be;
And then as Mulga Bill let out one last despairing shriek
It made a leap of twenty feet into the Dead Man's Creek.

'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that slowly swam ashore:
He said, `I've had some narrer shaves and lively rides before;
I've rode a wild bull round a yard to win a five pound bet,
But this was the most awful ride that I've encountered yet.
I'll give that two-wheeled outlaw best; it's shaken all my nerve
To feel it whistle through the air and plunge and buck and swerve.
It's safe at rest in Dead Man's Creek, we'll leave it lying still;
A horse's back is good enough henceforth for Mulga Bill.'

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 15 May 21 - 06:51 AM

THE MAN FROM IRONBARK by Banjo Paterson, music by Wallis & Matilda

video - Walls & Matilda

It was the man from Ironbark who struck the Sydney town,
He wandered over street and park, he wandered up and down.
He loitered here, he loitered there, till he was like to drop,
Until at last in sheer despair he sought a barber’s shop.
‘ ’Ere! shave my beard and whiskers off, I’ll be a man of mark,
I’ll go and do the Sydney toff up home in Ironbark.’

The barber man was small and flash, as barbers mostly are,
He wore a strike-your-fancy sash, he smoked a huge cigar;
He was a humorist of note and keen at repartee,
He laid the odds and kept a ‘tote’, whatever that may be,
And when he saw our friend arrive, he whispered, ‘Here’s a lark!
Just watch me catch him all alive, this man from Ironbark.’

There were some gilded youths that sat along the barber’s wall.
Their eyes were dull, their heads were flat, they had no brains at all;
To them the barber passed the wink, his dexter eyelid shut,
‘I’ll make this bloomin’ yokel think his bloomin’ throat is cut.’
And as he soaped and rubbed it in he made a rude remark:
‘I s’pose the flats is pretty green up there in Ironbark.’

A grunt was all the reply he got; he shaved the bushman’s chin,
Then made the water boiling hot and dipped the razor in.
He raised his hand, his brow grew black, he paused awhile to gloat,
Then slashed the red-hot razor-back across his victim’s throat;
Upon the newly-shaven skin it made a livid mark —
No doubt it fairly took him in — the man from Ironbark.

He fetched a wild up-country yell might wake the dead to hear,
And though his throat, he knew full well, was cut from ear to ear,
He struggled gamely to his feet, and faced the murd’rous foe:
‘You’ve done for me! you dog, I’m beat! one hit before I go!
‘I only wish I had a knife, you blessed murdering shark!
‘But you’ll remember all your life the man from Ironbark.’

He lifted up his hairy paw, with one tremendous clout
He landed on the barber’s jaw, and knocked the barber out.
He set to work with nail and tooth, he made the place a wreck;
He grabbed the nearest gilded youth, and tried to break his neck.
And all the while his throat he held to save his vital spark,
And ‘Murder! Bloody Murder!’ yelled the man from Ironbark.

A peeler man who heard the din came in to see the show;
He tried to run the bushman in, but he refused to go.
And when at last the barber spoke, and said ‘’Twas all in fun —
‘’Twas just a little harmless joke, a trifle overdone.’
‘A joke!’ he cried, ‘By George, that’s fine; a lively sort of lark;
‘I’d like to catch that murdering swine some night in Ironbark.’

He raised his hand, his brow grew black, he paused awhile to gloat,
Then slashed the red-hot razor-back across his victim’s throat;
Upon the newly-shaven skin it made a livid mark —
No doubt it fairly took him in — the man from Ironbark.

He fetched a wild up-country yell might wake the dead to hear,
And though his throat, he knew full well, was cut from ear to ear,
He struggled gamely to his feet, and faced the murd’rous foe:
‘You’ve done for me! you dog, I’m beat! one hit before I go!
‘I only wish I had a knife, you blessed murdering shark!
‘But you’ll remember all your life the man from Ironbark.’

He lifted up his hairy paw, with one tremendous clout
He landed on the barber’s jaw, and knocked the barber out.
He set to work with nail and tooth, he made the place a wreck;
He grabbed the nearest gilded youth, and tried to break his neck.
And all the while his throat he held to save his vital spark,
And ‘Murder! Bloody Murder!’ yelled the man from Ironbark.

A peeler man who heard the din came in to see the show;
He tried to run the bushman in, but he refused to go.
And when at last the barber spoke, and said ‘’Twas all in fun —
‘’Twas just a little harmless joke, a trifle overdone.’
‘A joke!’ he cried, ‘By George, that’s fine; a lively sort of lark;
‘I’d like to catch that murdering swine some night in Ironbark.’

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 15 May 21 - 09:19 AM

LET'S PRETEND - that climate change is not happening: a song about climate denial Words: Geoff Francis 2011 Melody: Peter Hicks 2011, Arranged: Miguel Heatwole 2012 as sung by Ecopella at the Short and Sweet vocal competition at Chatswood, Sydney 15th March 2015.

video - Ecopella sings Let's pretend.

Lyrics:
Let's pretend it isn't happening. Let's pretend it isn't true,
let's pretend that we can go on just the way we used to do.
Let's pretend that cutting carbon ten percent or maybe five
will be enough to shape a climate that our children can survive

Let's pretend that giving handouts to those polluters who are worst
will in some strange way save our future from forever being cursed
Let's pretend it isn't happening. Let's pretend it isn't true,
let's pretend that we can go on just the way we used to do.

Let's pretend that there's a method of burning coal that's clear and clean
Let's pretend that nuclear power is safer than it's ever been
Let's pretend that turning lights down and giving plastic bags away
by itself is all that's needed to usher in a brighter day

Let's pretend that growing output more and more and more each year
is our best hope for tomorrow rather than our deepest fear.
Let's pretend it isn't happening. Let's pretend it isn't true,
let's pretend that we can go on just the way we used to do.

Let's pretend that Tony Abbot isn't really all that bad
let's pretend for just one moment that he isn't barking mad
Let's pretend the sun goes 'round the earth. let's pretend the Earth is flat.
That those scientists don't know anything and that climate change is crap.

Let's pretend it isn't happening. Let's pretend it isn't true,
let's pretend that we can go on just the way we used to do.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 15 May 21 - 09:30 AM

500 YEARS - Written by Peter Klein arranged by Patrick Harte. Inspired by a tree that was planted when a church was built in the 1600's in England. The church had a fire in the 1980's and the tree was used to rebuild the roof. Long term planning- we need more of it!

video - Ecopella

Oh ya gotta think five hundred years from now
Plant a tree today and put it in the ground
Ya gotta water it and nurture it and watch it grow
Be gentle with the earth 'cause we all know...

Five hundred years from now
Make a plan today and take it to town
We want the rivers to flow, trees to be tall
Ya gotta think big and not too small

We want the water to sparkle, fish to swim Birds to fly high, it isn't a sin
Trees to be tall, the forests to grow Ya gotta think big and let it flow
Ya gotta think five hundred years from now,
       plant a tree today and put it in the ground
Ya gotta water it and nurture it and watch it grow
Be gentle with the earth 'cause we all know

That it's your great great great great,
Great great great great grand kids Who'll see what you do
It's your great great great great, Great great great great grand kids
Who'll love what you do Five hundred years from now...

You know I heard a politician just the other day
He said: "We'll plan for three years and that should be okay
We'll dig a huge hole in the ground
And see how much uranium can be found

Turn the sky purple, make the earth explode
Lots of money in the bank, yeah, that's the way to go
'Cause all I really care about is my next election plan
Five hundred years I just don't understand!"
Ya gotta think five hundred years from now...
            Five hundred years starts...       now!

from Ecopella's 2nd CD - 'Songs in the Key of Green' available from www.cdbaby.com/cd/ecopella2

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 15 May 21 - 10:33 PM

SAINT PETER
(H.Lawson/P.Duggan)

Now, I think there is a likeness 'twixt St Peter's life and mine
For he did a lot of trampin' long ago in Palestine
He was union when the workers first began to organise
And I'm glad that old St Peter keeps the gate of paradise

When the ancient agitator and his brothers carried swags
I've no doubt they very often tramped with empty tucker-bags
And I'm glad he's heaven's picket, for I hate explainin' things
And he'll think a union ticket just as good as Whitely King's

When I reach the great head-station that is somewhere 'off the track'
I won't want to talk with angels who have never been outback
They might bother me with offers of a banjo meanin' well
Or a pair of wings to fly with when I only want a spell

I'll just ask for old St Peter and I know when he appears
I will only have to tell him that I carried swag for years
'I've been on the track,' I'll tell him, 'and I done the best I could'
And he'll understand me better than the other angels would

He won't try to get a chorus out of lungs that's worn to rags
Or to graft the wings on shoulders that is stiff with humpin' swags
But I'll rest about the station where the work-bell never rings
Till they blow the final trumpet and the Great Judge sees to things

I first came across this Lawson poem on Alan Scott and Keith McKenry's 'Travelling through the storm' album. Unfortunately, that rendition is not available on YT.

Whitely King was the secretary of the Pastoralists’ Union of New South Wales, an employers’ body established in 1890 to further the interests of farmers, especially with their dealings with labour unions.

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 16 May 21 - 09:27 PM

WARNING: This song contains offensive elements.

This is from Stewart and Keesing's 'Old Bush Songs'. It was supplied by the late Bill Harney. Ron Edwards also collected it from Harney in 1957 and included it in his big book. It has been recorded by Ted Egan who also sang it in Keith McKendry's 'White on Black' themed concert that was mentioned in an earlier post. Bill Harney said that the song was composed by Jim Burgoin, a Territorian, in the 1930s. (The name is spelled 'Burgoyne' in S&K's book). As noted by Edwards, the final stanza refers to the an Aboriginal tree burial, a custom that persisted among some tribes until relatively recent times.

Ted Egan and Bill Harney's son, Bill Yidumduma Harney, will be sharing their stories and experiences at the 50th Top Half Folk Festival next month.

THE DALY RIVER-O!
(Jim Burgoin)

Now come all you sports that want a bit of fun.
Roll up your swags and pack up a gun,
Get a little bit of flour and sugar and tea,
And don’t forget a gallon of Gordon’s O.P.
And crank up your lizzie and come along with me,
And I’ll show you such sights that you never did see,
Down on the Daly River-O! .

There was Wallaby George, there was Charlie Dargie,
There was Old Skinny Davis, there was Jimmy Pan Kwee,
The Tipperary Pong and old Paree
And where’er you may roam you will find yourself at home,
For they are noted for their hospitality.
You are wakened in the morn, and your heart’s full of glee,
With a little dark maid and a pannikin of tea,
And she’ll give you such a welcome that you don’t want to go,
Away from the Daly River-O!

Now I saw a buffalo and a fat Chinee
Run a dead heat to the foot of a tree,
The chinaman flew, he didn’t feel the ruts,
Till the buffalo stopped with a bullet in the guts,
And the wild birds rose at the sound of the gun,
And the water dropped a foot in the silver billabong,
With ducks, geese and feathers, you couldn’t see the sun,
Down on the Daly River-O!

Well the buffalo kicked, we poured in the lead,
We killed him ten times to make sure he was dead,
Then we out with our knives and we all hopped in,
Two whites, a chow, five blacks and a gin,
We ripped him up the backbone, we slit him up the guts,
We took little fancy tit-bits, funny fancy cuts,
Then we cranked up the Lizzie and shouted “Right-oh !”
All aboard for the Daly River-O!

Now I saw a black man sitting in a tree,
The crows had picked his eyes out so he couldn’t see,
(And never and never a word spoke he,)
For he was as dead as dead could be.
He was just about ripe, the smell was high,
Like a billabong of fish when the water goes dry,
When Dargie threw a gibber that hit him in the mush,
And the native went “Phoosh” and we all went bush,
Down by the Daly River-O!

Ted has made some minor alterations in his rendition.

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 17 May 21 - 09:11 PM

JUSTICE DELAYED by John Warner 1998. Tune: Mixture of Muckin' o' Geordie's Byre and Bonnie Dundee/Billy of Tea

Audio

Justice delayed is justice denied,
Four judges have ruled that the right's on our side,
Now give us our jobs back and fling the gates wide,
For justice delayed is justice denied.

We've maintained the peace as we stood for our right,
They brought in the dogs and armed thugs for the fight.
They went to the courts and the courts ruled our way,
Why are we still standing outside today?

It's comic to hear business men crying poor,
They can't pay fair wages yet they pay for the law,
The law goes against them, as rightly it ought,
And still they have money to try the next court.

They say they can't pay us, the company's broke,
And we'd all be laughing except it's no joke.
They're still paying scabs on the big hired bus,
But they've stripped all the assets, there's no cash for us.

We're sick of injunctions, we're sick of the wait,
While scabs wreck equipment we see through the gate.
Our trust in the law's wearing weary and thin,
It's time to do justice and let us back in.

Visit John on the web at: www.folkjohnwarner.com

John and Margaret sing the song on the MUA Centenary CD "With These Arms"

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 17 May 21 - 09:32 PM

PERCENTAGE GAMES by John Warner, 05/11/11, Tune: Calon Lan [Trad Welsh], Simpler version of the tune “Miner’s Life”

Audio

One per cent plays games with money,
One per cent is in control,
One per cent controls our labour,
One per cent can buy our souls,
One per cent is greedy bankers,
One per cent plays stocks and shares,
One per cent owns starving nations,
They’re not one per cent that cares.

Ninety-nine per cent are angry,
Ninety-nine per cent declare
To the one per cent who own us,
Cut your profits, pay your share.

One per cent can ground an airline,
Hack computers, bug your phones,
One per cent has no compassion,
For the world it thinks it owns
Ninety-nine per cent are workers,
Unemployed or over aged,
With the rising cost of living,
Ninety-nine per cent enraged.

Ninety-nine per cent are angry,
Ninety-nine per cent declare
To the one per cent who own us,
Cut your profits, pay your share.

Pay the taxes you’ve avoided,
On our resources, pay the rent,
Cut the interest, increase wages,
Give us ninety-nine per cent.
One per cent had better listen,
One percent, let go of power,
Ninety-nine per cent have risen,
We’re prepared to seize the hour.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 17 May 21 - 10:34 PM

BYE BYE AWARDS ©1996 Bernard Carney

Audio

Since the Libs and Nats got in
Unions take it on the chin Bye Bye awards
Johnny Howard have no fear
Will whip the workforce into gear
Bye Bye awards
No more extra rates for working over
Businesses will soon be all in clover
Workers working extra hours
Management with extra powers
Unions Bye Bye

I just can't wait for the day
To argue for my weekly pay bye bye awards
When I feel a rise is due I'll make my bargaining debut
Bye Bye awards
And if I want employment to stay in tact
Better sign the individual contract
Divide and conquer that's the trick
Work conditions get the flick
Unions Bye Bye

Pre-strike ballots sent to undermine me
If I refuse maybe they would fine me
I'm free to choose in this dispute
Choose these rates or get the boot
Unions Bye Bye

So hoist the flag of profits high
Upon the good ship enterprise Bye Bye awards
Democracy defiled deflowered
That's the word from Johnny Howard
Bye Bye awards
The razor gang is sure to make you nervous
Especially if you're in the public service
So just to keep your budget right
You'll be working late tonight
Unions Bye Bye - no way
'Cos unions won't die

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: rich-joy
Date: 18 May 21 - 08:21 PM

KEDRON BROOK

Kevin Johnson

In the last light of evening sun, when summer grasses spoke of early dew
I took an unfamiliar turning,
And so I wandered
In the power of some strange subconscious yearning,
Down the turnings and the twistings of the road
Till the sun was gone from the distant hill
And Kedron Brook seemed strangely still.

1st REF.
Visions of sunsets and soft summer skies
Like cellophane papers that danced in my eyes
Echoes of footsteps that wandered their way
Through the last, lonely lights of the day,
Feelings of feelings that sent my head reeling just wondering how it could be
That the feelings of something so strangely confusing were strangely familiar to me
Like the feeling of something I seemed to recall, but I couldn’t remember it all
The feeling as though I had stepped through a door
And I knew I had been there before.

2nd REF.
When the gentry were waltzing to the gentle maxinas
And the hansom cabs swayed, like young ballerinas
And life was as sweet as an old concertina, that rattled its way through a holiday,
When the night was the sight of the weary lamplighters
And the crowded marquees of the bare-fisted fighters
And the bustles and bows of the Saturday nighters, were rustling their way through a Saturday,
When the world twirled around to an old-fashioned sound, and the seasons were young in the ground
Did I once stand there at Kedron Brook
Watching the sun going down?


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rluy2hta5y0

KEVIN JOHNSON album - “Rock&Roll, I Gave You All the Best Years of My Life”

KEVIN JOHNSON website : https://www.rocknrolligaveyou.com/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kevin_Johnson_(singer)   KEVIN JOHNSON – WIKI BIO



R-J

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: rich-joy
Date: 18 May 21 - 08:25 PM

OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY

Kevin Johnson

Throwing stones at the embassy, policeman come and arrested me
Paper at the university, said I was a hero,
And the wise old judge that I went before, wouldn’t believe what I did it for
Said this is no way to stop the war,
But, how the hell would he know?

Singing songs of dissolution, ban the bomb and beat pollution
Writing on walls about a revolution, that’s guaranteed to grow,
And I see on the news some identity, with an old man’s views on society
Said there’s no room for guys like me,
But, how the hell would he know?

CHORUS
Over the hills and far away
I’m gonna understand one day
What the other half believe in, if they’re real or just deceiving
So until I find that day
I’ll go along my way
And I’ll look back on my life and I’ll know I lived it right.

Lying down across the roadway, almost lasted out the whole day
Drivers trying but there was no way left for them to go,
And the wise old judge that we went before, wouldn’t believe what we did it for
Said this is no way to help the poor,
But, how the hell would he know?

CHORUS

1995 came quickly, crept right up and now it’s hit me
Seems the mayor of a busy city, don’t know where the days go,
Build a bridge and move the highway, spend the rest and mend the byways
Someone wrote things across my driveway, and someone broke my windows,
And I see on the news some identity, with a young man’s views on society
Said there’s no room for guys like me,
But, how the hell would he know.

FINAL CHORUS
Over the hills and far away, I’m gonna understand one day
What the other half believe in, if it’s real or just deceiving
So until I find that day, I’ll go along my way
And I’ll look back on my life and I’ll know I lived it right.
Over the hills and far away, merrily on my way…..


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Py8yU2hiY28

KEVIN JOHNSON album : “A Man of the 20th Century”

KEVIN JOHNSON website : https://www.rocknrolligaveyou.com/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kevin_Johnson_(singer)    KEVIN JOHNSON : WIKI BIO



R-J

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 18 May 21 - 10:19 PM

DROVING WOMAN
(Kev Carmody)

She buried him down on the edge of town
Where the brigalow suckers on the cemetery creep
She stood with them children in a heavy brown gown
What you want you just can't always keep

"I'm sorry", I says, "I knew him so well"
Though your body is young you just never can tell
When the hand of fate rings the final death knell"
She just turned with the saddest of smiles

She says "At the start well we knewed it so hard
We were always dealt the severest of cards
Honeymoon spent droving Jamieson's stock
Through the wildest winter you seen

Romantic notions of horses and land
They were soon dispelled as a fantasised dream
Watching cattle at night in the mid-winter cold
Turns a person, both wiry and old

The flame of the breakfast fire'd be dead
As the sun rose up he'd be miles up ahead
I'd be breaking the camp there and rolling the beds
While he fanned the stock wider for feed

When the weather turned sour with the onset of rain
An' the truck'd bog down to the axle mains
He'd move ahead with pack saddles and chains
And I'd wait in the mud by the road

With the blankets and canvas there hung out to dry
With nothing for heat 'cause you couldn't light a fire
With no stock permit for the forthcoming shire
The dog'd whimper in the winter wind rain

Cattle don't camp where they're sloshing in rain
They keep walking all night like a dog on a chain
He'd be red eyed and weary with a pack horse gone lame
I'd sit miles behind in the mud

It was down through Charleville up to Julia Creek
Living on syrup and damper and salted corn meat
We had nothing but the ‘roos and the mailman to meet
We'd move up and down with the rains

But them inland skies have the starriest of nights
With the dance of the fire throwing flickering lights
The beauty of it's sunsets were a constant delight
I felt that nature had let me intrude

The enormous vastness of them inland plains
Gives you a lonely contentment to which you can't put a name
It's satisfied glow city folks seldom attain
They spend life on a right rigid rail

The kids got their schooling from the government mail
We posted their work in at each cattle sale
They considered the learning a self imposed jail
They'd rather help their father and fail

Early last month at the end of the dry
He was given a horse nobody could ride
Alert were his ears with a fire in his stride
He was young and his spirit was wild

To catch him each morning was an hour long battle
We had to collar rope his near side to throw on the saddle
He'd bite and he'd strike, he made my nerves rattle
Pandemonium reigned with each ride

It was a hot summers' mornin' at the government bore
There was stillness around that I'd never felt before
How could he know it was fate at his door
That was stealthily watchin' his moves

He mounted up quick taking slack from the reins
Grasped a full hand of hair from the horses long mane
He'd just hit the saddle when the horse went insane
Churning dust in a frenzy of fear

The girth on the saddle let go at the ring
The surcingle slipped it was impossible to cling
The horse felt it go made a desperate fling
He was thrown to the length of the reins

I heard his spine snap like a ‘roo shooters' shot
He'd busted his back on the concreted trough
Sickness and fear were the feelings I got
For the doctor was a six hour drive

I looked at his face and his colour turned white
He turned slowly and said "I can't make it till night
My body is broken, I'm bleedin' inside"
And the life slowly drained from his eyes

I'll sell up the plant and I'll move here to town
Before the winter returns with a chill on the ground
For what I've just lost can seldom be found
I was blessed with the gentlest of men

Eventually the children will move to the east
But I couldn't stand the bustle of even a quiet city street
I'll stay in the scrub here where my heart really beats
For some dogs grow too old for change

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: rich-joy
Date: 18 May 21 - 11:15 PM

Good one, Stew - Thanks!    Just reading the lyrics had me in tears!

Here is a documentary on the great Kev Carmody, whom many regard as our best ever Aussie songwriter : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzaZkjJL5E0

In this version by Paul Kelly & Co, we see and hear from Kev about his early life and him writing this song to help depict his Mum and the women of that era - their lives and and inner strength and dignity : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tR4ioLnFWq4


R-J

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 19 May 21 - 02:28 AM

R-J, he has written some fine songs. Thanks for posting the links.

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 19 May 21 - 08:13 PM

Staying on the subject of women in the bush, here's a good'un from the Prickle Farmer.

LETTER TO NARELLE
(Mike Hayes)

She sits down by the light of the kerosene lantern
And wearily brushes the moths from the glass
Takes her pen in her hand and she starts on a letter
To her girlfriend Narelle back at home from the past

They had grown up as one, they were schoolgirls together
Til time and the pull of her heart changed her life
Took her far far away from her friend and the city
To this bare backblocks kingdom she now rules as a wife

And she writes:
Dear Narelle, the drought's getting worse now
And I don't know if we're gonna make it this time
And I've been on my own since my man went a-droving
But, apart from these dust storms, everything's been fine

But oh dear Narelle, I wish you could be here
When the rain finally falls and the country turns green
And the wind moves the hills in an ocean of grasslands
And the gulleys sing loud with the song of the stream

And she writes how she misses the kids, off at school now
But she knows that it's better that they're both away
And she hopes the supply truck comes in with some stores soon
'Cos there's just one or two things that she ran out of today

And she writes:
Dear Narelle, it's been almost three years now
Since I shopped in the city or took in a show
But when my man's back and the bank gives us credit
He's promised me this time we'll definitely go

But oh dear Narelle, I wish you could see him
As he rides through the gate when the rains finally fall
With his old hat thrown back and his eyes warm and smiling
These long months on my own just won't matter at all

And oh dear Narelle, you should be here at sundown
When the easterly breeze hunts the heat from the day
And the stars shine like diamonds in a sky of black velvet
And I'm glad that my city life's far far away

And the moon rises softly like a far away bushfire
And I'm glad that my city life's far far away

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 20 May 21 - 08:49 PM

SAM GRIFFITH
(Anon)

One night while lying on my bunk
In my humble six by eight
I dreamt I saw Sam Griffith
With a darkie for a mate
I thought I met them travelling
On a dreary Queensland track
And Sam was decorated with
A collar-fashioned pack

I thought that it was summertime
And Sam had o’er his eyes
A little piece of muslim
To protect him from the flies
Through his boots his toes were shining
And his feet looked very sore
I knew his heels were blistered
From the Alberts that he wore

When Sam saw me coming towards them
He sat down upon his swag
Said he, ‘Look here, stranger
Got much water in your bag?
We are victimised by squatters
For we are two union men’
And Sam had on as usual
His same old polished grin

Said I, ‘Look here, Sammie Griffith
You have a flamin’ cheek
If you want a drink of water
You can get it from the creek
As for the South Sea Islander
I do not wish him ill
For well I know, poor devil
He’s here against his will’

‘You said, with wife and family
One time you’d emigrate
If they did not stop kanakas
That was in eighty-eight
You spoke against black labour then
And talked of workers’ rights
You spoke from lips but not from heart
Australia for the whites’

‘You should loaf to those you crawl to
The sugar-growing push
For you’re hated and detested
By the workers in the bush
They might give you some easy billets
Such as boots and shoes to clean
Or driving the kanakas as
They work amongst the cane’

I thought Sam jumped up
Froth around his mouth like spray
Said he, ‘My agitator
Just let me have a say
I remember you at Longreach
How you did hoot and groan
I believe you would have mobbed me
But for Constable Malone’

I thought Sam tried to rush me
A shape before my face
But I got home the LaBlanche swing
And gave him coup-de-grace
The darkie raised his tomahawk
And gave a savage scream
Then all at once I wakened up
And found it all a dream

John Meredith recorded this in 1953 from then 81-year-old Jack Luscombe who had picked up his songs from various shearing sheds.

Audio of Meredith recording

Sir Samuel Griffith was Premier of Queensland and first Chief Justice of the High Court of Australia. He won his election largely on his policy of preventing the importation of kanaka labour. His policy was inoperative but the practice was brought under some control.

Sir Samuel Griffith

Some trivia:

LaBlanche swing, also known as the "pivot blow" or "La Blanche pivot" was named after middleweight George LaBlanche, who reportedly used it to knock out Nonpareil Jack Dempsey (John Edward Kelly) in their 1889 bout. The 'Tacoma News Tribune', a Washington newspaper, described the punch in 1919: 'This blow is delivered by closing the eyes, turning rapidly on one heel and letting the right go at random'.

I couldn't find any reference to 'Alberts' on the Net. The term could relate to the Balmoral boot which was a favourite of Prince Albert. A shearer would perhaps surmise that it was the type of boot that Sam Griffith would wear. I found this on a site relating to the history of boots:

The Balmoral boot (or Bal) was originally designed for Prince Albert and consisted of a close fitting lace up boot, similar to those worn by today's wrestlers. They could be front or side lacing and acted as a galosh to protect the feet from the wet gorse. The upper section of the toe box was treated with water proofing. Queen Victoria must have approved because she had several pairs made and wore them regularly. Possibly because Prince Albert expressed a liking for the style because it had a slendering effect. Balmoral boots became popular with both men and women.

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 22 May 21 - 09:38 PM

SHOULD I DUMP YOU SOMEWHERE PRIVATE
(Andrew London)

In spite of all our efforts, it’s apparent now to me
our romance just hasn’t blossomed like it should
despite a dozen dates and dinners disillusionment decrees
that our directions deviate, we have divergent destinies

And so it falls to me I guess to do the decent thing
before we’re inextricably entwined
I hope you’ll soon get over it and we can still be friends
with benefits perhaps if you’re inclined

Should I dump you somewhere private or in a neutral public place.
etiquette says gentlemen of breeding should always do it face to face
should I opt for somewhere open, shunning small cafes and bars
could be an awkward silence after, should we maybe take two cars?

Should I take you to a restaurant, will you react with some reserve?
I’ll try and get the whole thing over just before the mains are served
I understand you’ll be downhearted and your feelings may be hurt
but such a shame to let a tantrum ruin both of our desserts

Could I ‘unfriend’ you on Facebook, send a text in lower case
or an email to your office with a little smiley face?
No, there’s just no way around it, it’s a job that must be done
can we meet at 12 tomorrow – you’ll be back at work by one

Should I take you to a sad movie, betray my sensitivity
Because then you’d be upset already, but not directly cos of me
should I dump you somewhere private or in a neutral public place
Oh, look, there’s a message on my cellphone – well I’d have done it face to face

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: rich-joy
Date: 23 May 21 - 12:56 AM

Despite a love of folk songs featuring the historical practices of Whaling, many of us were also part of the 60s-70s campaigns to try and stop the slaughter of these extraordinary, intelligent and sentient beings on this planet - or, at least many remember those times.   Apparently this song was used by the International Whaling Commission to assist in the campaign to stop International Whaling, but so far I’ve not found the info on-line to corroborate this …..


THE WHALES ARE SINGING TO ME (A WHALER’S LAMENT)

Kevin Johnson

I went to sea; there were no other choices for me
A Whaling ship – what greater adventure could there possibly be
The first day out we found them; circled our ships around them
Fired our harpoons till the sea ran red
In no time at all, those whales were dead.

We towed them in; oh how we drank that night at The Sailor’s Inn
Singing whaling songs, as the Captain played on his violin
But drinking was something I’d never known
So I staggered back to the ship alone
As drunk as a young man could ever be, listening to the night around me.

Was it the sound of the violin, drifting in on the cool night wind
Or was it something that came from the moon (?)
Could it be? That whales were singing to me
Perhaps they sung of those terrible things I’d done.

I have to say, when I look back over that dreadful day
There was treachery, that hadn’t really occurred to me
There seemed to be a kind of trust, as though they had nothing to fear from us
We got so close like we were friends, but then
We slaughtered them.

It wasn’t the sound of a violin, drifting in on the cool night wind
No, it was something that came from the moon, yet to me
Those whales were singing to me
Now they sung of the terrible things I’d done.

I left the sea, there were no other choices for me
A Whaling ship – what greater misfortune could there possibly be
And now I’m as old as a man can be, even today it’s still haunting me
Though my deeds have long since gone, sadly I see
It still goes on.

Now the Captain plays on his violin and I walk by the sea in the cool night wind
And I hear something that calls from the moon, has to be
The whales are singing to me, those things we’ve done
Of those terrible things we’ve done.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoiHgTrWb0o&t=12s
an illustrative film clip with a recording from Kevin Johnson’s 2018 album entitled “Milestones 1”, but I think the song is much earlier.
Also, there are a few words I am having difficulty discerning!
I’ve not found the song’s provenance currently online. If anyone can assist, I’d be grateful.


Cheers, R-J
(who still has her LP of Dr Roger Payne's iconic recording of "Songs of the Humpback Whale" 1970 :)

https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2020/dec/31/calls-from-the-deep-do-we-need-to-save-the-whales-all-over-again   :   "Calls from the deep: do we need to Save the Whales all over again?" 1st Jan2021

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 23 May 21 - 07:41 PM

888
(The Currency)

You said you'd meet me at the corner
Of Russell and Victoria
When I arrived you weren't there
So I opened up the bottle
Of red I brought to share
And sat upon the monument stairs
It says here
Of battles fought and won
It says here
Of victories a long time coming
An eight hour day
An honest working wage
It's just history

Sitting on the steps of the Eight Hour Monument
Drinking my day away
Sitting on the steps of the Eight Hour Monument
Thinking what would the ghosts of our great-grandparents say

Across the road Trades Hall
And behind me the Old Melbourne Gaol
I bought a souvenir mug
To drink out of
With the death mask of Edward Kelly
It says here
Ned's parting words
It' says here
"Such is life!"
Where the heavens are you, what the hell am I to do
And how on earth did it end up this way?
It's just history

Sitting on the steps of the Eight Hour Monument
Drinking my day away
Sitting on the steps of the Eight Hour Monument
Thinking what would the ghosts of our great-grandparents say

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: GerryM
Date: 24 May 21 - 12:35 AM

That's Australia
Lyrics: Dennis Watkin
Tune: Chris Harriott

There's a country road, somewhere back of Bourke,
Where flies the size of a dingo like to lurk.
Locals swear they've been there,
Can't tell you how to get there,
But sure as hell they will tell you where to go.
That's Australia! x2

There's a farm down South where kangaroos can speak,
And cows meow like a tomcat that's on heat.
You won't find a drover,
Just an old Land Rover,
And a bloke with a camera making docos on the cheap.
That's Australia! x2

From East to West across this land, as they sip their favorite brew,
You'll hear folks tell the strangest tales, and swear to God...that they're all true.

There's this crocodile in a Northern creek
That takes a break from eating tourist once a week.
He likes a change of diet,
So weekly on the quiet
You'll find him drinking mineral water neat.
That's Australia! x2

There's a jackaroo who told me that he knew
A bloke who choked on a dish of rabbit stew.
He died and went to Heaven,
Came back at half past seven,
And told his mate ... there was nothing there to do.
That's Australia! x2

From East to West across this land, as they sip their favorite brew,
You'll hear folks tell the strangest tales, and swear to God...that they're all true.

That's Australia! Everyone's got a story or two.
That's Australia! Everyone swears their shaggy dog story is true.

This was the theme song for a program on Australian TV in 1988.
Recording by John Derum, the emcee of the program, backed by The Bushwackers.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 25 May 21 - 09:51 PM

SYRIA
(Donna Simpson)

Nails and bombs and dying son, daughter is nearly three
Give a man my coin, take a boat with my family
I’ve heard all about the sunshine, but all I'm seeing is rain, rain, rain
Raining bombs upon our home - cannot return again

What’s a man to do, what’s a man to do
When everything’s been taken from you
What’s a man to do, what’s a man to do
Nails and bombs and a dying son, what’s a man to do

I know nothing of the ocean, I’ve been reared a farming man
Chin up above the water until your feet hit the sand
We’re floating in the darkness, now they are talking about tides , tides , tides
I’ve got everything to lose, my wife and children by my side

What’s a man to do, what’s a man to do
When everything has been taken from you
What’s a man to do, what’s a man to do
Nails and bombs and a dying son, what’s a man to do

Life’s my God-given right, God damn this holy war
Don’t know who they are fighting against, don’t know who they are fighting for
I spend my time praying to God, praying for peace, peace, peace..
What’s the use of praying to God if my God ain’t hearing me

What’s a man to do, what’s a man to do
When everything has been taken from you
What’s a man to do, what’s a man to do
Nails and bombs and a dying son, what’s a man to do

Pray, pray, pray …

Yutube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 28 May 21 - 08:30 PM

THE OLD MAN’S SHED
(Luke O’Shea)

Well, the old man kicked the bucket about seven months ago
They left me with his ashes and he left me with a note
It read, 'Son, you know I love you, from this world I've been released
And I know you'll know just what to do so I can rest in peace'

So I hung on to his ashes and the words he said
And I went out for inspiration to the old man's shed
I opened up the door, I could still recall his face
As he would try and tell me sternly, everything must have its place

Well, he tried to educate me but I never quite could see
'Cause he had so many hammers, how many hammers do you need?
Oh, of all these nuts and bolts and washers, there is nothin' he would waste
Yes, in my old man's shed, everything must have its place

Well, that man could build the Taj Mahal with nails, clips and glue
If somethin' ever broke, he knew exactly what to do
And I would watch him at that workbench in a state of grace
Yes, and everything he touched, it was meticulously placed

Well, there were ropes and there were ladders, there were brushes, there were leads
And a poster on the fridge when the Dragons won in '63
I'd try and borrow somethin' and leave without a trace
Well, every tool, it had an outline, everything must have its place

Well, yes, he tried to educate me but I never quite could see
'Cause he had so many chisels, how many chisels do you need?
Oh, of all these nuts and bolts and washers, there is nothin' he would waste
Yes, in my old man's shed, everything, it had its place

Then suddenly it struck me, I knew exactly what to do
I opened up a jam jar and I emptied out the screws
And then I poured the old man's ashes in with a smile upon my face
And then I left him there within the shed, everything must have its place

Well, yes, he tried to educate me and finally I see
When you find your place within the world, how happy you can be
Oh, of all these nuts and bolts and washers, there is nothin' we should waste
Yes, in my old man's shed, everything must have its place

In my old man’s shed, everything has got its place
In my old man’s shed, he found his final resting place

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: rich-joy
Date: 29 May 21 - 06:46 PM

Good One, Stew! I really should have thought to save some of Lawls' ashes for His Beloved Shed; guess there were just too many other places in line, LoL!

Sorry I've fallen a bit behind with posting songs. Hopefully some other Catters or Guests will help 'take up the slack' for we regular Posters!

Cheers, R-J
(and only 12 more sleeps til we meet again at the Top Half! :)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 29 May 21 - 10:31 PM

R-J, looking forward to seeing you again. It has been a long time.

THE DIGGERS SONG
(Tom Smith/Wongawilli)

By the side of the creek with shovel and pan
I see the gold diggers, a bold, sturdy clan
They are sinking for wealth and ‘neath the red mould
Lies all that they seek for, the long wished for gold

Chorus
So dig ‘neat the mould, boys
Where you’ll find gold, boys
Aye, find it the same as you’ve found it before

The rock and the cradle sounds constant and clear
’Tis music indeed to the gold-seeker’s ear
For when fortune favours, it makes their hearts bold
Contented and happy though toiling for gold

Chorus

Ah, what can compare with the life that they lead
Unvexed by those cares of which others take heed
And when with their pile they visit the town
Repine not in finding they’ve knocked it all down

Chorus

Come, I’ll pledge you a toast and now let it be
‘The diggers’ who here give a welcome to me
May fortune be theirs as they toil in the mould
And each one go home with a good pile of gold

Chorus

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 02 Jun 21 - 12:17 AM

DINGO
(Gary Shearston)

He was nought but a windy old bushranger, sir
His ways, I know, appearing somewhat strange
He roamed the country wide with a song-thorn in his side
And a memory of an old blue mountain range

Well now, it really doesn't matter, I know
Just how it came to pass that
A bounty got placed on his hide
No, the only thing that matters and
The thing that he done wrong was
To lose it in the morning one time
That poor boy
He did lose it in the morning one time

Dingo, dingo there's a hunter coming
Up dingo, run

From his lair hidden so well by ghost gums and pine
And the tracks that he covered far behind
Taking leave of his mate, he ran down to meet his fate
Upon the plain just as the sun began to climb

Well now, it really doesn't matter, I know
Just how it came to pass that
He paid for the ways of his kind
No, the only thing that matters and
The thing that he done wrong was
To lose it in the morning one time
That poor boy
He did lose it in the morning one time

Dingo, dingo there's a hunter coming
Up dingo, run

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: GerryM
Date: 02 Jun 21 - 02:56 AM

The Weirdest Dream (to the tune of Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream)
Clem Parkinson

Last night I had the weirdest dream I'd never dreamt before.
I dreamt our politicians all went off to fight the war.
It seems they decided it was time to join the ranks,
To do their bit to help save face for Nixon and the Yanks.

And as they marched along the street, the crowd just stood and gasped.
"I never thought I'd see the day," an old ex-digger rasped.
"And have you heard the latest news?" I heard a woman cry,
"They're bringing home the conscripts, not another one need die."

There was Snedden and McManus, even Santa-strewth-Maria,
With Peacock, Lynch, and Andrew Jones all bringing up the rear.
And as they marched down Collins Street to sound of drum and flute,
His Eminence, Archbishop Knox, stepped forth to take salute.

His hands began to tremble as he then, with courage true,
Threw down his crucifix and cried, "Hey, boys, I'm coming, too."
"Left wheel," the sergeant shouted. McManus shook with fright.
No matter how he tried, he kept veering to the right.

They marched down to Port Melbourne, to embark at Station Pier,
Where some wharfies, somewhat rudely, gave a rather loud Bronx cheer.
McManus got the jitters, and he beat a quick retreat.
He grabbed a wharfie's bicycle, and pedaled down the street.

"I've left behind my toothbrush," he mumbled as he fled.
Then I awoke, and found that I had tumbled out of bed.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Lyrics copied from Warren Fahey, The Balls of Bob Menzies: Australian Political Songs 1900-1980.

The men named in the song were all supporters of the Australian military involvement in the war in Vietnam. Billy Snedden was Minister for Immigration and then Minister for Labour and National Service. Frank McManus was from the Democratic Labor party, an anti-communist breakaway from the Labor Party. "Santa-strewth-Maria" was B A Santamaria, associated with Democratic Labor.

Andrew Peacock was Minister for the Army and then Minister for Territories (and, much later, leader of the Liberal Party). He died in April 2021. Phillip Lynch was at various times Minister for the Army, Minister for Immigration, and Minister for Labour and National Service. Andrew Jones was a very conservative member of Parliament, but only served one term, 1966-69, and never as a Minister.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 02 Jun 21 - 03:58 AM

a source we haven't mined ...

& here's Joan Baez singing 'Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream'

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 02 Jun 21 - 10:31 PM

WAKE OF THE BOUNTY
(The Currency)

Put him in a lifeboat
And said goodbye
Goodbye to Captain Bligh
A gypsy curse, not gentle verse
By all reports no gentleman he
Spitting, "Fletcher Fletcher
I bet you etch your name in infamy
When you touch land you'll be tried and hung
May your men breathe their last before me"

Chorus:
Banned from the ports
Damned in the courts
No more throwing dice on the wharf
There are those
Those are we
Slaves to the sea
A cruel mistress she
Heave away you rolling kings
Show me your mercy
Haul away you howling winds
Fill the sails and sing
In the wake of The Bounty

When they saw the Pandora
Some swam out to her
Saying The Bounty left us marooned
Taken by boat by the ship-wrecked coast
To the new out-post of the Crown
When they hit the rocks, more lives were lost
Poor souls locked below deck
Now it's swinging time
From Norfolk pine
For the mutiny nine

Chorus

When the storm had cleared
She had disappeared
And for twenty years not a word
Then a man named John Adams
Said "I'm the last of them and I saw The Bounty burn"
It was burnt, cinders burnt from the bow to the stern
That night there was a new sun
We drowned in rum
Took to the gun
And when bullets there were none
Sticks and stones

Chorus

Heave away you rolling kings
Show me your mercy
Haul away you howling winds
Fill the sails and sing
In the wake of The Bounty

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 05 Jun 21 - 01:41 AM

SHANTIES BY THE WAY
(E.J. Overbury et alia)

It's in a first-rate business section
Where four bush roads cross and meet
It stands in a quiet and neat direction
To rest the weary traveller's feet

Chorus:
Rows of bottles standing upright
Labelled with bright blue and gold
Beer so cold it needs no icing
From the cellar's drear dark hold.

Kerosene lamps are shining brightly
Cards, and lo, the billiard balls
Men and women are dancing lightly
To the music inside those walls.

There’s quoits and games and bagatelle
All to suit your fancy-0
But better far behind the bar
Stands smiling darling Nancy-0

Nancy's smiles are quite beguiling
To make some fun she's willing-0
You give a rap she turns the tap
And thanks you for your shilling-0

Landlord stands with smiling face
He likes to see your cash forked out
Landlord stands with smiling face
Sometimes he will stand a shout

Landlord “shouting” is uncommon
He’s kidding you to dance and play
How the devil can a bloke keep sober
In those shanties by the way?

When you wake up in the morning
In your thirst without a mag
You cast around a sad reflection
As you shoulder up your swag

Penniless you'll have to wander
For many a long and dreary day
Till you earn another cheque to squander
In those shanties by the way

This began life in Australia as a poem by E.J. Overbury. It became a song that was carried back and forth across the Tasman by itinerant workers. The above version was collected in 1940 in NZ.

Youtube clip

Overbury's original poem, published in 'The Creswick & Clunes Advertiser' in 1864. Info from NZ folk song site:

THE PUBLIC BY THE WAY

On a first-rate business section;
Where four bush roads cross and meet.
Stands a large and fine erection,
Dear to weary traveller's feet.

Should he for a moment linger,
'Tis a case for all the day;
For his cash they'll supply finger
In the public by the way.

In he steps, p’raps never dreaming
More than half an hour to stop.
Tastes the liquor, foaming, creaming,
On the polished pewter pot.

One pint soon brings on another.
Then he feels inclined to stay:
Oh, his cash he'll quickly smother
In the public by the way.

Rows of bottles stand enticing
Radiant with bright blue and gold:
Beer so cool it needs no icing
From the cellar's dusky hold:

Cards and billiards always ready
Landlord presses him to play;
How, then, can a cove keep steady
In these publics by the way.

Landlord stands with smiling features
Glad to see the cash shell out;
Seems the best of generous creatures
For he sometimes stands a shout.

Then he neatly lands his salmon.
By "kidding" him to drink and play
Oh, there is a deal of gammon
In these publics by the way.

Morning finds him in dejection.
Thirsty, sick, without a mag;
Prey to many a sad reflection,
As he shoulders up his swag.

On the road he's free to wander
Penniless for many a day;
Thus it is with all who squander
In the public by the way.

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: JennieG
Date: 05 Jun 21 - 02:02 AM

Stewie - I have a CD "Music of the diggings: songs and tunes of the central Victorian goldfields" which contains "The 'public' by the way", originally written about a pub at Smeaton, Vic., sung by Judy Howell. The CD was made in May 2000. I've just looked it up, it's now no longer available new but used copies can be found on ebay.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: rich-joy
Date: 05 Jun 21 - 09:26 AM

As this Aussie favourite has just been sung tonight, Australia-wide, on SBS- TV’s “Australia’s Biggest Singalong”, I figure it’s time to include it in our collection!!

THROW YOUR ARMS AROUND ME

Mark Seymour

I will come for you at nighttime
I will raise you from your sleep
I will kiss you in four places
As I go running along your street,

I will squeeze the life out of you
You will make me laugh and make me cry
And we will never forget it
You will make me call your name
And I'll shout it to the blue summer sky.

chorus :
   And we may never meet again
   So shed your skin and let's get started
   And you will throw your arms around me
   Yeah, you will throw your arms around me.

I dreamed of you at nighttime
And I watched you in your sleep
I met you in high places
I touched your head and touched your feet,

So if you disappear out of view
You know I will never say goodbye
And though I try to forget it
You will make me call your name
And I'll shout it to the blue summer sky.

   And we may never meet again
   So shed your skin and let's get started
   And you will throw your arms around me
   Yeah, you will throw your arms around me.

Ohhh, yeah
Ohhh, yeah

You will throw your arms around me (ohhh, yeah)
Yeah, you will throw your arms around me (ohhh, yeah)
Yeah, you will throw your arms around me (ohhh, yeah)
Yeah, you will throw your arms around me (ohhh, yeah)
Yeah, you will throw your arms around me (ohhh, yeah)
Yeah, you will throw your arms around me (ohhh, yeah)


Originally sung by Melbourne band, Hunters & Collectors, though covered by many : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hunters_%26_Collectors


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e69wQsfrbSU   This is the slower, more laid-back version that we all love to sing along with, whether with Astrid Jorgensen’s famous Pub Choir, or in that sentimental, late night session with your boozy mates!!!
[ But for those who prefer the faster, slightly more “serious”?! original from 1986 : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zON9sg6ADjQ ]


It has been described as Australia’s secular hymn. Here is Guardian writer, Brigid Delaney’s take on this Anthem’s important place in our history :
https://www.theguardian.com/music/australia-culture-blog/2014/feb/25/hunters-and-collectors-throw-your-arms-around-me


OK, now everyone take a swig then raise those arms, sway, and sing along with me : "Ohhhhhhhh, Yeah, you will throw your arms around me"

R-J :))

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: rich-joy
Date: 07 Jun 21 - 07:12 PM

REFRESH

Stewie and I are about to descend upon the 50th Top Half FF at Mary River Bush Retreat, between Darwin and Kakadu (starts Friday), so plenty of space here on this thread for Aussie-Kiwi postings by other Catters and our esteemed Guests, eh!!!
(hint hint)


Cheers, R-J :)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 07 Jun 21 - 11:42 PM

I wanna see a couple of photos (not on facebook tho, cos I'm not a member)

please & thankyou

sandra

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 11 Jun 21 - 09:50 AM

Total number of entries on our 2 spreadsheets (Aug-Dec 2020 & Jan to date) is 992, some of these entries are duplicated, due to an error or lyrics & video/audio entered separately,

The first spreadsheet has 625 songs sorted into alphabetical order, the second has 367 entries in numerical order & some of these are duplicates.

If anyone would like a copy of the spreadsheets, PM your email address, & of course if any of our viewers have any songs to add, please do so!

sandra

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 13 Jun 21 - 10:43 AM

G'DAY, G'DAY by Robert Fairbairn

video - Slim Dusty

G'day g'day, how ya goin', what d'ya know, well strike a light
G'day g'day, and how ya go-o-o-in'
Just say g'day g'day g'day and you'll be right

Isn't great to be an Aussie
Takin' a walk along the street
Lookin' in shops or buyin' a paper
Stoppin' and havin' a yarn with people that you meet

Down at the pub or at a party
Whenever you're stuck for what to say
If you wanna be dinky-di, why don't you give it a try
Look 'em right in the eye and say goo'day

G'day g'day, how ya goin', hat d'ya know, well strike a light
G'day g'day, and how ya go-o-o-in'
Just say g'day g'day g'day and you'll be right

Now when Italians meet they all go crazy
The blokes all like to hug each other too
The Yanks invented "hi" "and see you later"
While the Pommy will shake your hand and say "how do you do"

Now watch out for a Frenchmen or he'll kiss you
The Spaniards go for "Olah" and "Olay"
But in the land of the cockatoo, pole cats and the didgeridoo
When you meet an Aussie ten-to-one here's what he'll say

G'day g'day, how ya goin', what d'ya know, well strike a light
G'day g'day, and how ya go-o-o-in'
Just say g'day g'day g'day and you'll be right

It's a greeting that you'll hear across Australia
From Geraldton to Goulburn, Gundagai
It's as dinkum as the Dingo and the Dahlia
And you spell it with a G, apostrophe, a D-A-Y

G'day g'day, how ya goin', what d'ya know, well strike a light
G'day g'day, and how ya go-o-o-in'
Just say g'day g'day g'day and you'll be right

G'day g'day, and how ya goin', what d'ya know, well strike a light
G'day g; day, and how ya go-o-o-in'
Just say g'day g'day g'day
Just say G'day g'day g'day and she'll be right

Bonus extra - lyrics - bowdlerised (really??? yes!) & here are the naughty words, properly replaced by asterisks so as not to cause offence.
- If you wanna be d***y-di, why don't you give it a try

- But in the land of the c***atoo, cork hats and the didgeridoo

- It's as d***um as the Dingo and the Dahlia

at least they use "cork hats" instead of "polecats" (native to Europe, Asia, & Africa) as given on many other lyrics sites -

& dahlias are natives of Central America!

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: JennieG
Date: 13 Jun 21 - 11:00 PM

They are indeed, Sandra.....but at least 'dahlia' rhymes with Australia, one of few words which do! Another which comes to mind is 'failure'......

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 14 Jun 21 - 09:39 AM

corrected verse as suggested by JennieG

It's a greeting that you'll hear across Australia
From Geraldton to Goulburn, Gundagai
It's as dinkum as the Dingo and the failure
And you spell it with a G, apostrophe, a D-A-Y

tho the "a" before D-A-Y seems to be superfluous.
do we need to fix that too?

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: Stewie
Date: 16 Jun 21 - 10:32 PM

BONNIE MOON
(Traditional)

I wandered many a night in June
Upon the banks of Clyde
Beneath the bright and bonnie moon
With Mary by my side

A summer wedding unto my eyes
And to my heart of joy
For well she loved to roam with me
Her Ireland minstrel boy

Her presence stood on every star
Two million fields so clear
I thought the flowers sweeter by far
When they were seen with her

Although her heart was true to me
Her Ireland mintrel boy

I played for ladies fair and gay
In many a southern hall
But there is one far, far away
A world above them all

And though many a weary year has fled
I think with mournful joy
Upon that day when Mary wed
Her Ireland minstrel boy

Collected for the National Library by Rob Willis from Carrie Milliner of the South Coast of NSW. She was from a family of sleeper cutters and traced the song back to her great-grandfather.

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Australia/NZ Songbook
From: rich-joy
Date: 19 Jun 21 - 08:12 PM

REFRESH
(to rescue from falling off!)

Once I have done the summer holiday washing and cleared the bombshell debris now in my rather cold winter house, I will post songs again!!

Any other lurking readers, grab your thread Contents Lists from Sandra - and please post some Aussie-Kiwi songs!!

Cheers, R-J