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 |
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