Mudcat Australia-New Zealand Songbook

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 21 Sep 20 - 01:19 AM

here 'tis https://mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=105012 Date: 24 Sep 07 - 10:05 AM

& here's Bernard singing Basingstoke in 1981

BASINGSTOKE
© Bernard Bolan

I've got a cat called Basingstoke. he's a cat you must admire.
He's black and white, or he was, till the night that he jumped into the fire.
What a night! The tale it must be told,
So grip your seat, for you're in for a treat that will make your blood run cold.
Basingstoke, he used to be so furry
Till he tried to kung-fu the canary.
Up he jumped, soaring ever higher,
Then the soaring stopped and down he dropped in the middle of the fire.

In flames and smoke my Basingstoke went roaring round the room.
His fiery tum and his blackened bum appeared to spell his doom.
What a cat! Whoever would have guessed
He could stick his rear in a pint of beer while beating out his chest?
Basingstoke, he truly is a trier.
It takes guts to sing when you're on fire.
What a cat! You should have seen him strain,
Stuck like glue in the bottom of the loo and trying to pull the chain.

Now life's no joke for Basingstoke; so runs the ugly rumour
That the fiery hob did not just rob him of his sense of humour.
Poor old chap! The prospect it appals.
Just one jump and down with a bump and he's burnt off all his undergrowth.
Basingstoke, his tale is truly tragic.
Fire and smoke, they have robbed him of his magic.
The former spring-pawed terror of the tiles
Just sits and sighs with tears in his eyes 'cause he only raises smiles.

Basingstoke, he used to be a charmer.
Now ladies joke, they talk of fried banana.
Poor old chap! He was too young to retire.
Once he was happy, handsome and hairy,
Just a red-blooded pussy with a taste for canary.
Now he comes somewhere between a fritter and a fairy
Since he walked the fire.

Bernard & friends in the 2019 Bernard Bolan tribute concert

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: JennieG
Date: 20 Sep 20 - 10:05 PM

How about "Basingstoke" by Bernard Bolan? Poor old Basingstoke......very funny.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 20 Sep 20 - 09:08 PM

good one, Stewie

I have no idea when I last heard it, but I remember the chorus, I'll probably be singing it all day.

sandra

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 20 Sep 20 - 08:49 PM

The late great John Clarke was a national treasure on both sides of the Tasman. Before relocating to Australia in 1977 and starting anew as a political satirist, Clarke had created an enduring Kiwi icon in the imagination of New Zealanders – the hilariously laconic, black-singleted, gumbooted farmer, Fred Dagg. Billy Connelly had modified a traditional song, 'The Work of the Weavers, to create his 'Welly Boot Song'. In turn, Clarke transmogrified Connelly’s piece into 'The Gumboot Song', one of Fred Dagg’s greatest hits.

THE GUMBOOT SONG
(John Clarke aka Fred Dagg)

[Spoken] Kick it in the guts, Trev ...
                           
Gumboots, they are wonderful, gumboots, they are swell
'Cos they keep out the water, and they keep in the smell
And when you're sittin' round at home, you can always tell
When one of the Trevs has taken off his gumboots

(Chorus)
If it weren't for your gumboots, where would ya be?
You'd be in the hospital or infirmary
'Cos you would have a dose of the flu, or even pleurisy
If ya didn't have yer feet in yer gumboots

Now there's rugby boots and racing boots, and boots for drinkin' rum
But the only boots I'm never without, are the ones that start with ‘gum’
I've got short ones and long ones, and some up to me belt
I'm never dressed 'till I've got on me gumboots

Chorus

Whenever I sing at the opera, my gumboots are a must
They help me hit the high notes, and protect me feet from dust
They keep the water well away, so me voice won't get no rust
You will not never see me without me gumboots

Chorus

Now Rob Muldoon and Rowling, they haven't made a hit
They're ruining the country, more than just a bit
If they keep on the way they're going, we'll all be in turd
So you'd better get yer feet up yer gumboots

Chorus   (x2)

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 20 Sep 20 - 08:33 PM

Then there's the splendid parody by the late Marcus Turner.

HUNG OVER LIVER
(Marcus Turner)

Hungover liver. my head it is aching;
It's weeks since the daylight I've seen
I'm sitting here thinking "This shit I've been drinking
Is rotting a hole in my spleen."

Farewell to the gold that never I've seen.
Goodbye to the acres of New Zealand green.
I'm feeling quite plastered; my brain is half-masted.
Put me down, you don't know where I've been.

It's nearly two weeks since I left my old lady
To have a quiet beer with the boys
With Acid Head Jimmy and crazy Marie
And Zelda with her rubber toys.

Farewell to my house, my family and wife.
I knew I was heading for all kinds of strife.
We really were raving, I knew I was having
The best bloody time of my life.

We spent the next fortnight in acts of perversion,
Old Jimmy Williams and me
'Til we heard of a party where no one had clothes on
So we headed down there just to see.

We drank and we chundered for night after night.
Jug after jug we threw down
'Til two great big p'licemen took Jimmy away
In a bust in the east end of town.

Farewell lovely Zelda wherever you are.
Your knickers are still in the back of my car,
And thanks for the games with Marie and with James
And I hope the rash doesn't spread far.

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 20 Sep 20 - 08:28 PM

FAREWELL TO THE GOLD
(Paul Metsers)

Shotover River, your gold it is waning
It's weeks since the colour I've seen.
But it's no use just sitting and Lady Luck blaming
I'll pack up and make the break clean

(Chorus)
Farewell to the gold that never I found
Goodbye to the nuggets that somewhere abound
For it's only when dreaming that I see the gleaming
Down in the dark deep underground

It's nearly two years since I left my old mother
For adventure and gold by the pound
With Jimmy the prospector, he was another
For the hills of Otago we were bound

Chorus

Well we worked the Cardrona's dry valleys all over
Old Jimmy Williams and me.
They were panning good dirt on the winding Shotover
So we headed down there just to see

Chorus

We sluiced and we cradled for day after day
Barely making enough to get by
'Til a terrible flood swept poor Jimmy away
During six stormy days in July

Chorus

One of the best-loved New Zealand folk idiom songs. It was written by Paul Metsers, but popularised by Phil Garland, Nic Jones, Gordon Bok and others. Metsers wrote about its composition:

I'm afraid there is no mystery source for the song, no distant broadside or doggerel from which it gained its inspiration. It's all out of my head as it happens. I got hold of a pictorial history of gold mining, a small but fascinating book called ‘The Goldfields of Central Otago’. When I read of the tragic flash flood of July 1863, I knew I had the basis of a story.

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 20 Sep 20 - 08:02 PM

ROSE BAY FERRY
(Bernard Bolan)

Every morning at 8:25
Down to the Rose Bay wharf I drive
Park my Humber underneath a tree
Pop along the gangplank and then I'm free
Free says you, but how can that be?
When you always finish up at Circular Quay
So doubting Tom I shall explain
When I get on board I sing this sweet refrain

Where are we going today, Mr Nicholson?
Where is it the going to be?
Don't turn left, turn right down the harbour
And out to the open sea
Throw away your compass, right hand down
And it's out through the heads we’ll go
Yo ho! let's be merry on the Rose Bay ferry
If we run out of petrol, we'll row, yo hoYo Ho!
If we run out of petrol, we'll row

Monday Java, Tuesday Spain
Wednesday's it's Tokyo and back again
The only trouble is, there isn't any Gents
But what do you want for 20 cents?
Off with me raincoat and me woolly vest
See the naked ladies on my chest
Today is Friday, so hold on tight
'Cos it’s off to Trinidad and back tonight

Where are we going today, Mr Nicholson?
Where is the going to be?
Don't turn left, turn right down the harbour
And out to the open sea
Pull up your anchor, pull your finger out
And wave goodbye to your home
We're off to Nantucket, so give that man a bucket
'Cos it's choppy when you're out on the foam, yo ho
It's choppy when you're out on the foam

Now sometimes if I get up late
I only reach the jetty at half past 8
But that doesn't ruin my world-wide trip
'Cos the 8:37 is a battleship
Off on the dot with our guns on high
Mince up Manly as we pass by
We need another rocket so just pop upstairs
We can get 'em from the chappy who collects the fares

But now, left turn’s right today, Mr Nicholson
Trouble in town, you see
Let's hear three cheers, we're brave buccaneers
The saviours of Circular Quay
With patch on high and brollies to the sky
Every pollie from his folly must flee
With knuckles and chuckles, we'll swash their buckles
If they bugger up Circular Quay
Then we'll heave to (or three) at Circular Quay

Bernard's original final chorus was:

Where are we going today, Mr. Nicholson?
Where is the going to be?
Don't turn left, turn right down the harbour
And out to the open sea
For though we look like dudes and doctors
At heart we are men of the sea
Yo ho, let's be merry on the Rose Bay ferry
Until we get to Circular Quay
We finish up at Circular Quay

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 20 Sep 20 - 07:21 PM

I posted this one to the forum almost 20 years ago. At the height of the 'revival' in Oz, the first 3 interstate guest singers we had to the Top End Folk Club in Darwin were Declan Affley, Danny Spooner and Bernard Bolan.

UNCLE FRED
(Bernard Bolan)

My uncle Fred retired last week at the age of 82
So we thought it only proper to prepare a little do
My uncle Fred's a lawyer and he works in Sydney town
At the offices of Brindle, Bogle, Trimble, Cock and Brown

It had always been intended I should follow in his steps
And not become a parson or else one of Waltons' reps
So I studied for my exams though it nearly split my head
And soon I took my proper place alongside Uncle Fred

Uncle Fred is 82 today
Time to take his specs off and put his books away
Time to say farewell to Torrens title and the courts
And no more thinking complicated excise duty thoughts

Mr Bogle brought the gin and Bogle brought the beer
But Trimble, Cock and Brown had not been round for many years
The office girls appeared in pearls and some with purple eyes
And, in the usual fashion, I was sent to get the pies

A wooden chiming clock was bought at very great expense
And a little card with flowers on cost petty cash 10 cents
At the office bar, with a pencil jar, the cashier lost his head
And drank lemonade and a razor blade to the health of uncle Fred

Uncle Fred is 82 today
Time now for the Law Society's pension fund to pay
No more hereunto, aforesaid, thee and thou
But time to pay attention to the herein after now

Mr Bogle had begun his speech in praise of uncle Fred
When he choked upon a cherry and he turned a fearful red
They beat him on the back until his teeth fell on the floor
And in the pandemonium no one saw the office door

But standing there as large as life was a banker known as Max
For whom old Fred had once prepared a scheme for saving tax
He said, 'So Fred is leaving, I am glad he hasn't gone
'Cos I just got out of jail this week and I'd like to join the fun

Uncle Fred is 82 today
Time to say goodbye to all his friends up in Long Bay
No more telling clients that adultery is wrong
And tracking correspondents down and wishing he was young

After Max came Mr Phelps who lives at Wollongong
He bought a flat in Wollstonecraft but Fred had got things wrong
Then poor Herbert Wilkins' missus shedding floods of tears
On a speeding charge he'd gone to Fred and he'd got him 14 years

But then a hush fell over all as from the ground beneath
Came smoke and flames and 20 names framed in a fiery wreath
'God bless you Fred from the grateful dead', Satan's chorus sang,
'For down in hell are the clientele that you managed to get hanged'

Uncle Fred, you're 82 today
Time to hang your wig up and to give the game away
Time to leave your office in the middle of the town
With the compliments of Brindle, Bogle, Trimble, Cock and Brown

Youtube clip

A tribute concert to the great man:

Click

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 20 Sep 20 - 09:33 AM

Gidday, Richard

I copied a post from this thread http://mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=79383 but it only had 5 verses, I hadn't noticed. A later post on that thread lists the entire song copied from John's first book - which I have & just used to count the verses, so I know there are 8.

I'll ask Joe if he can add the extra verses to my original post so it's perfect!

The Randwick Races
(Words: John Dengate - Tune: "The Galway Races")

We arrived at Randwick races, by taxi from Clovelly.
I had money in my trousers, boys, and schooners in my belly.
Well the bookies saw us coming and they panicked in a crisis;
They tinkered with the odds and they shortened all their prices.
CHORUS:
       With my whack, fol the do, fol the diddley idle day.

Well the hunger it was gnawing and the thirst was in us rising
While the crowd's excited roaring reached a level quite surprising.
Oh, we swallowed several middies and demolished pies and sauces
And we set to work comparing prices, jockey's weights and horses.
CHORUS:

Denis Kevans said, "I reckon we will finish rich as Pharaoh
If we back the chestnut filly from the district of Monaro.
She's a trier, she's a flier, never knock her or decry her -
She's sixty-six to one; when she wins we'll all retire."
CHORUS:

There was every kind of punter from illiterates to scholars;
I struggled through the betting ring and wagered twenty dollars -
Then the horses were away; from the barrier they thundered
And we hoped that very day to collect the thirteen hundred.
CHORUS:

We shouted in despair; Denis Kevans tore his hair,
O'Dea began to swear at the filly from Monaro.
She was struggling in the pack and our very hearts were bleeding;
She was falling further back and the favourite was leading.
CHORUS:

It seems the filly heard us for suddenly she sprinted.
She raced around the ruck with a purpose quite unstinted.
At the ledger she was third, oh you should have seen her flying;
I got so damned excited that I choked upon my pie, singing –
CHORUS:

They stormed into the straight like cavalry invading;
The filly was improving and the favourite was fading:
"She's won it by a nose ... but a protest has been entered;
The stewards have upheld it; curse the day they were invented!'
CHORUS:

We walked back to Clovelly from the blasted Randwick races,
With ulcers in our bellies, boys, and gloom upon our faces.
We cursed the filly's jockey and we cursed the Randwick stewards
Then drowned our disappointment in a flood of amber fluids.
CHORUS:

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Richard Mellish
Date: 20 Sep 20 - 05:18 AM

Sandra in Sydney 17 Sep 20 - 04:16 AM Randwick Races
There are more verses. Do you have them, Sandra? I learnt the song from a recording so there will be some differences from the words in my head and those originally written, but I can post mine if you don't have them.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 19 Sep 20 - 11:16 PM

FALZIBAD
(Fred Smith)

Falzibad, the post-modern muslim
Had a thing for those modern women
Started out feeling sentimental
Left us feeling so existential

Falzibad, Falzibad (after each stanza)

Falzibad though he was Islamic
Liked his vinegar pure balsamic
Playing tennis like Boris Becker
Kept forgetting to pray to Mecca

Falzibad he went to Karachi
Met a woman like Greta Scacchi
Sang her the song of the mariachi
All the mullah got very touchy

Muslim boys should not sing in Spanish
‘Falizad’, they said, ‘you are banished
To a land where there’s no falafel’
As for english, well he knew stuff all

So Falzibad he went into exile
Selling rugs and imported textiles
Driving down to the hippy market
In a porsche and there he’d park it

All the women said, ‘Hey habibi
You’re the one we’ve seen on tv
But we find you more appetising
Than the rugs you’ve been advertising’

Falzibad he went to a disco
Spanish quarter of San Francisco
Wound up with a Latino dancer
Woke up wondering where his pants were

And as he awoke from his bender
There were kisses wet, warm and tender
The dancer’s body was long and slender
Some uncertainty as to gender

Falzibad he was a chick magnet
Pulled them in like he had a dragnet
Plain to see he’d forgotten Allah
Lying there in the massage parlour

God so terrible, god so frightening
Struck poor Falzibad down with lightning
’That’ll teach you’, he said, ‘for messin’
‘Round with women without my blessin’’

One of my favourite Fred Smith songs. I reckon the best recording of it is on his album with the Spooky Men's Chorale - 'Urban Sea Shanties' - but that track is not available on YT.

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 19 Sep 20 - 10:02 PM

In 1840, around two-thirds of New Zealand was still covered in forest and this provided the basis for a strong indigenous timber industry for more than 100 years. A fine timber industry song, 'The Mill', was first published in Neil Colquhoun’s excellent ‘Song of a Young Country’ in 1977. It is attributed to a C.H. Winter about whom nothing is known.

THE MILL
(C.H. Winter attributed)

Beside a clump o’ needlewood we anchored down the mill
The engine’s by the blue-clay tank and further up the hill
The men are marking out the trees and the chips are on the wing
So early in the morning you can hear the axes ring

(Chorus)
With a jigger and a jemmy and a shigger and a shammy
And the sawdust in the sky
I keep thinking will he gimme up all of me money
Or wait till the big ‘uns lie

We’ve laid the bench and trued the saw and given her one spin
The benchman eyes his pet with pride and pats the packing in
He chocked the engines rolling wheels and backed the watercart
And heaped a stack of shortening wood in readiness to start

Chorus

We have no tearing vertical, we run no twin saws here
No clanking winches, swinging cranes, no wealth of yankee gear
No office clerk with collar white, no gangs of many men
We run a simple clearing mill and number nine or ten

Chorus

We grease the transports, oil the trucks, the benchman gives a sign
The engine starts, the big belt flaps and saw begins to whine
The sun comes out a scorcher and the bullocks raise the dust
The waterbags gets covered and our throats begin to rust

Chorus

The hill is looking strange and bare, the bigger trees are cut
And through the gaps we catch a sight of some gum digger’s hut
The ground is scoured by dragging logs, the grog is put to rout
And now it’s just a few more days and we’ll be all cut out

Chorus

At first, some timber was milled near the logging site. Logs were jammed into position on a platform over a pit. They were then cut by 2 men using a crosscut saw, one standing on top of the log and one beneath. Pit-sawing, however, could not keep up with demand for timber and, after 1865, steam-driven mills were developed with steam generated by burning wood waste. The logs were hauled by bullock teams or rolled by means of timber jacks.

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 19 Sep 20 - 09:38 PM

The late John Munro lived for a time here in Darwin towards the end of his life. He was a very fine musician and singer, but I must admit that not many of his original songs sparked my clod. However, I really loved this one.

SNOWDROP
(John Munro)

It’s minus six as Alex stands in line
The grim procession that’s motionless in time
He’ll wash and share some bread
But there’s no warmth, there’s no bed
At Sanitation Station Number 9
And he thinks about the harsh words with his son
But there’s no way back, the damage has been done
His thinking’s not so clear now
From the vodka and the beer now
And not a living soul goes where he’s gone

And when all the snows have melted
All the papers blown away
There you are, there you are
Just another snowdrop blooming in the spring
A silent voice without a song to sing
And this brave new world you fought for
Didn’t turn out like you thought
For all the lost and lonely snowdrops in the spring

Now Alex knows a place where he can go
A quiet stair-well where there’s shelter from the snow
And as he makes a bed, does he think what lies ahead
Or is lying down his head all that he knows
There’s money now but Alex wouldn’t know
But the news is good, the papers tell us so
But for all the lies he stood for, now all the news is good for
Is a blanket that won’t quite keep out the cold

And when all the snows have melted
All the papers blown away
There you are, there you are
Just another snowdrop blooming in the spring
A silent voice without a song to sing
And this brave new world you fought for
Didn’t turn out like you thought
For all the lost and lonely snowdrops in the spring

Alex sleeps and sleeps and never dreams
And passes out of life somewhere between
The darkness and the light, the daytime and the night
Unnoticed, unremarked, unloved, unseen

And when all the snows have melted
All the papers blown away
There you are, there you are
Just another snowdrop blooming in the spring
A silent voice without a song to sing
And this brave new world you fought for
Didn’t turn out like you thought
For all the lost and lonely snowdrops in the spring

I transcribed the lyrics from John's singing on Eric Bogle's 2009 album 'The Dreamer'. Corrections welcomed.

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 19 Sep 20 - 07:26 PM

THE DUST OF URUZGAN
(Fred Smith)

In the ring they called me ‘Warlord’ my mother calls me ‘Paul’
You can call me ‘Private Warren’ when you're filing your report
As to how I came to be here, this is what I understand
In this hospital in Germany from the dust of Uruzgan

I had just turned twenty eight, just bought a new car
When you joined the first Battalion of the Big 1 RAR
We were next up for deployment into South Afghanistan
To combat the insurgence in the dust of Uruzgan

It took seven months of training just to get into the joint
There were push-ups and procedures, there was death by powerpoint
Then the RSO&I course in Ali Al Salaam
But nothing can prepare you for the dust of Uruzgan

Me and Benny sat together flying into Kandahar
Sucked back on our near beers in the Camp Baker Bar
Then up at 05:30 and on the Herc and out
In twenty flying minutes, we were in to Tarin Kowt

We shook hands as the boys ripped out from MRTF one
And pretty soon were out patrolling in the Afghan summer sun
Walking through the green zones with a Styer in my hand
Body armour chafing through the dust of Uruzgan

We started up near Chora working fourteen hours a day
Mentoring a Kandak from the Afghan 4th Brigade
Down through the Baluchi into eastern Dorafshan
Working under open skies in the dust of Uruzgan

It's a long, long way from Townsville not like any place you’ll see
Suddenly you're walking through from the fourteenth century
Women under burkhas, tribal warlords rule a land
Full of goats and huts and jingle trucks in the dust of Uruzgan

And the Education Minister can neither read nor write
And the Minister for Women runs a knock shop there at night
They've been fighting there forever over water, food and land
Murdering each other in the dust of Uruzgan

There's nothing about the province that's remotely fair or just
But worse than the corruption is the endless fucking dust
It's as fine as talcum powder on the ground and in the air
And it gets into your eyes and it gets into your hair

And it gets in to your weapon and it gets in to your boots
When bureaucrats all show up there, it gets in to their suits
It gets in the machinery, it foils every plan
There's something quite symbolic about the dust of Uruzgan

Still the people can be gracious and they’re funny and they’re smart
And when the children look into your eyes, they walk into your heart
They face each day with courage and each year without a plan
Beyond scratching for survival in the dust of Uruzgan

But the Taliban are ruthless, they keep the people terrorised
With roadside bombs and hangings and leaving letters in the night
And they have no useful vision for the children of this land
But to keep them praying on their knees in the dust of Uruzgan

It was a quiet Saturday morning when the ’2 Shop’ made a call
On a compound of interest to the east of COP Mashal
We had some information, they were building IEDs
So we cordoned and we searched it in accord with SOPs

I was on the west flank picket, propped there with Ben
There to keep a watchful eye out while the other blokes went in
We knew what to look for from the TTPs we'd learned
But the Nationals were moving back and forth without concern

We'd been standing still for hours when I took a quick step back
Kicked a small AP mine and everything went black
I woke up on a gurney, flat out on my back
I had to ask them seven times just to get the facts

I lived to tell the story through a simple twist of fate
The main charge lay ten foot away from the pressure plate
You see the mine was linked by det cord to a big charge laid by hand
Hidden under Benny by the dust of Uruzgan

I was a Queensland champ Thai Boxer now I look south on my knee
And all I see is bed sheets where my right foot use to be
Benny's dead and buried underneath Australian sand
But his spirit's out there wandering through the dust - the dust of Uruzgan

Now I'm going back to Townsville, it's the city of my birth
Some go back to Ballarat and some go back to Perth
I'll be living with my mother who's still trying to understand
Why we're spending blood and treasure in the dust - in the dust of Uruzgan

Youtube clip

Fred noted:

In July 2009, passing through the United Arab Emirates on my way into Afghanistan, I attended a memorial service for Ben Ranaudo, a young guy from Springvale, Victoria. This was the first of over a dozen memorial services and ramp ceremonies I went to in my 18 month stint working for Foreign Affairs in Uruzgan Province, Southern Afghanistan. You never really get used to them, but I had just arrived and was unprepared. In the months that followed, through conversations with staff in the headquarters of the Mentoring and Reconstruction Task Force, I developed some understanding of what happened on the morning of 18 July, 2009, when Ben was killed. I read the unclassified version of the Commission of Inquiry Report into the incident when it was released in December that year, and found myself imagining an interview between the colonel who wrote the report and one of Ben’s mates, a guy called Paul.

You can find explanations of acronyms in the glossary at this site which details Fred's Afghanistan experiences:

Click

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 19 Sep 20 - 01:48 AM

now we are 200!

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 19 Sep 20 - 01:47 AM

DEVLIN'S GENERAL STORE, words: © John Warner 19/10/93
tune: John Warner/Margaret Walters

Where can I get a cross-cut saw?
Devlin's General Store.
You can get a cross-cut saw
And anything else you're looking for,
It's been there since '94,
Has Devlin's General Store.

Where can I go to collect me mail?
Devlin's General Store
There you can collect your mail
That came from Melbourne town by rail
You can get a cross-cut saw [etc]

Where can I get a dozen eggs?
Devlin's General Store
You can get a dozen eggs
A washing line, some dolly pegs
There you can collect your mail [etc]

[And so on until the last verse:]

Where can I get some sly grog, mate?
Devlin's General Store,
You can get some sly grog, mate,
We just sold some to the magistrate,
* You can get a length of fuse
Several types from which to choose
You can get some gelignite,
Samsonite or dynamite,
* You can get some 12 gauge shot,
Powder, wadding, they've got the lot
You can get a liquorice strap,
A tupenny bunger, a rabbit trap,
You can get a carbide lamp,
A miner's pick or a ha'penny stamp,
You can get a set of spurs,
Flannel underwear, his or hers,
You can get a dozen eggs,
A washing line, some dolly pegs,
There you can collect your mail
That came from Melbourne town by rail,

You can get a cross-cut saw,
And anything else you're looking for,
It's been there since '94,
Has Devlin's General Store.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 19 Sep 20 - 01:32 AM

From Phyl - I wrote it because my father Roy Vinnicombe went to the Somme aged 18 and was injured a couple of years later. He recovered or I would not be writing this e-mail. He went to WW 2 when I was 3 and was invalided home but died when I was 8.

A recording of my lyrics accompanied on Uilleann pipes played by Declan Affley is freely available on my web site website The recording was made somewhere in the 80’s I think. It was performed at a concert in the Sydney Town Hall.

BATTLE OF THE SOMME, Sung by Phyl Lobl with Pipe accompaniment from Declan Affley

Words: Phyl Lobl   Tune: Pipe Major William Laurie adapted by Phyl Lobl.


The lark in the evening she drops to the ground now
Bidding farewell to the long summer day.
High on a ridge hear a gun hit the silence,
Flames like a flower brighten the sky.
Dugouts are quiet we wait for the morning
Feeling a thrill as the battle draws near.
As dawn with her pale flush, silvers the grey sky
Sharp tongues of shell fire call up the day.

Glory, vain glory, you beckoned us onward,
Kitchener’s call and your light led the way.
Then just when we seem to be near
You turn into darkness
Splashed with the mud and the pain of the day.

The lines they are formed and the orders are given
While General Haig sends his prayers to the sky.
As we move onward our bayonets before us
We know that those prayers were no better than lies.
Rising and twisting the smoke curls above us
I see by the green glow there's gas in its domes.
We stumble and fall through the craters and shell holes,
Watching the bombs turning trenches to tombs.

We're over the rise now, the line is before us,
Enemy gun fire taking its toll
What hope have the bayonets and the rifles we carry
Against a machine gun here on the Somme.
Day's nearly done now the battlefield empties,
The living are hidden the dead lying still.
The wounded are calling for someone to save them
But no one can help them, no body will.

*‘What's to be said of the life-time of man now,
Shifting from sorrow to sorrow again.
You button up one cause for man kind's vexation
Only to find there's another undone.'*
Each generation has freedom to fight for,
Choose between gun fire or words for your tools.
Freedom's a phantom but reason could find her.
Honour and glory a haven for fools.

• Words between the stars are a direct quote from the book.
The rest are mine distilled from the revelations of people Guy Chapman interviewed for his book.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 18 Sep 20 - 08:54 PM

R-J, here's one of your Kiwi favourites.

FAREWELL TO GERALDINE
(J.Fleming/Trad/P.Garland)

(Chorus)
Oh, fare well to you, old Geraldine
I am now upon the track
I'm travellin' down that long and weary road
With a swag all on me back

I'm headin' towards Temuka town
And if work I cannot find
I'll make me way on towards Washdyke
Leave Temuka far behind

Chorus

Perhaps I'll call in at Timaru
And round there take a look
But if no farmer should want me there
I'll drop on down to the Hook

Chorus

I'll push ahead then to Oamaru
Ngapara and Duntroon
Where farmers often work late at night
By the pale light of the moon

Chorus

When harvest days are over
And corn is in the sack
I'll shoulder bluey once again
By the rattler I'll be comin' back

Chorus

Joe Fleming was a swagger poet who roamed through South Canterbury and North Otago. He always wintered in the town of Geraldine. His little rhymes would appear on hut doors throughout the countryside. Joe died along the track, a frozen corpse by the side of the road. He left the itinerary of his regular round which Phil Garland set to a traditional tune.

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 18 Sep 20 - 08:46 PM

In New Zealand, loggers and forestry workers were known as bushmen. In 1976, Phil Garland collected 'The Dying Bushman' from Ken Hart of Palmerston North who first heard it from bushmen in the Otaki area during the 1930s. Apparently, it is still sung by a younger generation of bushmen.


THE DYING BUSHMAN
(Anon)

I've knocked around the logging camps since early boyhood days
I've seen the famous axemen come and go
Now me chopping days are over, I shall swing that axe no more
On the hillsides where the native timbers grow

(Chorus)
For me slasher is all rusty, and my axe handle's broke
I've laid them both behind the whare door
For the rata and the rimu have got so goddamn tough
That I really cannot cut them any more

The tramways in the valley, I shall never tread again
No more I'll hear the hauler's whistle blow
Well, oft times I look back as I travel down the track
Please don't take me from the only home I know

Chorus

I'm a poor old worn-out bushman and my chopping days are done
Soon this world shall know I'll be no more
Down the valley of the shadow, I'll soon be on the track
Where oft times I've seen bushmen go before

Chorus

And when I sleep that last long sleep, I pray that it may be
Where the tawa and the matai and the pine
And the hinau and the ngaio and the koromiko tree
Grow forever by that lonely grave of mine

Chorus

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 18 Sep 20 - 08:37 PM

This is another old favourite that Danny Spooner recorded on his final CD. I first heard it sung by a good mate, Ian White, who recorded it on his LP 'Songs from a Busker's Bag'.

Here are the lyrics as printed in the booklet to Danny's 'Home' CD.

ANOTHER FALL OF RAIN

The weather has been sultry for a fortnight now or more
And the shearers have been driving might and main,
For some have got the century who ne'er got it before
But now we all are waiting for the rain.

Chorus (after each verse):
For the boss is getting rusty and the ringer's caving in,
His bandaged wrist is aching with the pain,
And the second man I fear will make it hot for him
Unless we have another fall of rain.

Now some had taken quarters and were keeping well in bunk,
When we shore the six-tooth wethers from the plain.
And if the sheep get any harder some other blokes'll flunk
Unless we have another fall of rain.

But the sky is clouding over and the thunder's muttering loud
And the clouds are driving eastward o'er the plain.
And I see the lightning flashing round the edge of yon black cloud
And I hear the gentle patter of the rain.

So, lads, put on your stoppers and let us to the hut
And we'll gather round and have a friendly game,
While some are playing music and some play ante up
And some just a-gazing at the rain.

Some cockies come here shearing, they would fill a little book
About this sad dry weather for the grain.
But here is lunch a-coming, make way for Dick the cook,
Old Dick is nigh as welcome as the rain.

But now the rain is over let the pressers spin the screw,
Let the teamsters back their wagons in again.
We'll block the classer's table by the way we push them through,
For everything goes merry since the rain.

So it's, “Boss bring out the bottle” and let us wet the final flock,
For the shearers here may never meet again.
While some may meet next season and some not even then,
And some they will just vanish like the rain.

Final Chorus:
And the boss he won't be rusty when his sheep they all are shore,
And the ringer's wrist won't ache much with the pain
Of pocketing a season's cheque for a hundred quid or more—
And the second man will press him hard again.

Danny's note:

Also known as 'Waiting for the Rain', John Meredith collected a version from wharfie Leo Dixon, who had been a bush worker and shearer and was born at Eugowra. Meredith stated that the words were written by John Neilson of Penola, a bush worker, farmer, and balladist, and the father of John Shaw Neilson. The last verse in this version was sent me by email and comes from Dave de Hugard"s record 'Freedom on the Wallaby'.

Martyn Wyndham-Read recorded it on his 'Starlit Skies' album at a more leisurely pace.

Martyn's note:

A song that goes back many years for me. Just recently I played it with a different rhythm and it took on a new life. The beauty of these old songs is that they will stand any interpretation and still come back to the same shape and form. The song may be based on the poem by Australian poet John Shaw Neilson to a tune of his time 'The Little Low Log Cabin in the Lane'.

Wyndham-Read

Was it written by John Shaw Neilson or his dad?

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 18 Sep 20 - 07:49 PM

New spin on an old favourite by pommie pair:

Aldridge and Goldsmith

At a more familiar pace:

The Bushwackers

From the forum database:

TRAVELLING DOWN THE CASTLEREAGH

I'm travellin' down the Castlereagh, and I'm a station-hand
I'm handy with the ropin' pole, I'm handy with the brand
And I can ride a rowdy colt, or swing an axe all day
But there's no demand for a station-hand along the Castlereagh


So it's shift, boys, shift, for there isn't the slightest doubt
That we've got to make a shift for the stations further out
With the pack-horse runnin' after, for he follows me like a dog
We must strike across the country at the old jig-jog


This old black horse I'm riding, if you notice what's his brand
He wears the crooked R, you see, none better in the land
He takes a lot of beatin', and the other day we tried
For a bit of a joke, with a racing bloke, for twenty pounds a side


It was shift, boys, shift, for there wasn't the slightest doubt
That I had to make him shift, for the money was nearly out
But he cantered home a winner, with the other one at the flog
He's a red-hot sort to pick up with his old jig-jog


I asked a cove for shearin' once along the Marthaguy
"We shear non-union here," says he. "I call it scab," says I
I looked along the shearin' floor before I turned to go
There were eight or ten non-union men a-shearin' in a row


It was shift, boys, shift, for there wasn't the slightest doubt
It was time to make a shift with the leprosy about
So I saddled up my horses, and I whistled to my dog
And I left his scabby station at the old jig-jog


I went to Illawarra, where my brother's got a farm
He has to ask the landlord's leave before he lifts an arm
The landlord owns the countryside - man, woman, dog and cat
They haven't the cheek to dare to speak without they touch their hat


It was shift, boys, shift, for there wasn't the slightest doubt
Their little landlord god and I would soon have fallen out
Was I to touch my hat to him? was I his bloomin' dog?
So I makes for up the country at the old jig-jog


But it's time that I was movin', I've a mighty way to go
Till I drink artesian water from a thousand feet below
Till I meet the overlanders with the cattle comin' down
And I'll work a while till I make a pile, then have a spree in town


So it's shift, boys, shift, for there isn't the slightest doubt
We've got to make a shift for the stations further out
The pack-horse runs behind us, for he follows like a dog
And we cross a lot of country at the old jig-jog


Notes

First published in the Bulletin in 1892 This poem of Banjo Paterson's ('The Bushman's Song') has grown a number of tunes in its time in the bush. Meredith collected three tunes in NSW, and two tunes are given in the Queensland Centenary Pocket Songbook while in his Big Book of Australian Folk Song Ron Edwards gives another two. The most commonly sung tune was collected separately by Geoff Wills and John Manifold. Manifold got it from Mr Hines of Donald, Victoria, and it is in his Penguin Australian Song Book.

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 18 Sep 20 - 09:27 AM

that makes 195 songs.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 18 Sep 20 - 09:23 AM

When the Wind Blows (Eric Bogle) video

The evening air lies heavy and sleep it still escapes me
A night where hope and courage are still-born
Outside the lurking shadows they press against my windows
And wait for the coming of the storm
       They dance, those shadows
       When the wind blows

The shadows are advancing over all the earth they're dancing
And everywhere they dance they shall bring death
All the priced and even pages that we've written through the ages
Shall vanish in the shadow's poisoned breath
       The story book will close
       When the wind blows

Suddenly I'm frightened, I wish this room were lightened
Can no-one light a candle in the dark
For I hear the sullen murmour of far-off threatening thunder
I feel its menace chill me to the heart
       Where can I hide, where can I go
       When the wind blows

There is no-one that can save you and nowhere you can run to
No shelter in a world that's gone insane
In this world that we created in our arrogance and hatred
Stand naked 'neath the gentle deadly rain
       There will be no rainbows
       When the wind blows

In the darkness I am trembling, this night seems never ending
It seems the morning sun will never rise
And the crashing of the thunder it split my head asunder
And lighting burs and heats into my eyes
       And oh how the darkness grows
       When the wind blows

In a thousand searing flashes the world shall turn to ashes
Whirling like a burning coal in endless space
This good earth we did inherit we shall leave a smoking desert
A headstone for the heedless human race
       To mark our final flows
       When the wind blows

Oh I must be dreaming for I thought I heard a screaming
Like a billion lost souls falling into hell
In a thousand tongues bewailing at indifferent fate a-railing
Each one calling on the saviour as they fell
       Shall we reap what we did sow
       When the wind blows

You can call upon your saviour it you think that is the answer
But you've called on him so many times before
Call on Allah, Buddah, Jesus, I doubt if they can hear us
For we let the devil loose, now hear his roar
       Hell shall overflow
       When the wind blows

----------------------------------------------------------------------
recorded by Eric Bogle.
Copyright Larrikin Music)

"This song was inspired by the book of the same name by Raymond Briggs.
It's a chilling little book. I'd like to lend a copy to the world leaders,
it might frighten them. It certainly frightened me, and this song is
the result" - Eric Bogle

(The book was also made into an equally chilling animated movie)

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 18 Sep 20 - 09:21 AM

PERILOUS GATE (cut down from a 35-verse poem published in 1877)

The Darling Downs Gazette and General Advertiser (Toowoomba, Qld. : 1858 - 1880) Sat 29th Dec 1877 refers to the Christmas issue of "The Queenslander" which has a supplement that includes a poem by the author of 'Craddock Head,' entitled 'The Perilous Gate;' (Craddock Head is a 4-part story!)

PERILOUS GATE Words & Music: Phyl Lobl audio

A tale I tell of a narrow gate upon the eastern coast
Of many wrecks and ruins this narrow gate can boast,
Beneath Newcastle Harbour waves lie rotting hulls and sailor's graves,
Heroes tombs are hidden caves below the Nobby's post.

It is a pretty entrance but when you're homebound sail,
I'd rather stand far out to sea when it blows a stiffish gale.
Blowing from the South or East each huge wave a crest of yeast
Comes roaring like a wounded beast and mounts the rolling rail.

The sixth day of November round eighteen fifty eight,
The Eleanor Lancaster was caught entering the Perilous Gate,
We watched those huddled at the top with nothing but a slender prop
Which at each blow we thought would drop and all her timbers fail.

An awful sea was running and not in all that crew
Was one who thought boats could be brought those boiling breakers through
But then a little fair haired man pushed and panted as he ran
And urged us all the waves to scan and to our mates be true.

'Now lads', he shouted shrill and clear 'Who'll venture it with me?
Each minute lost a life might cost in such a tumbling sea.
With four good men I’ll wager I'll bring them all to shore
Come who will try?' ,three answered 'Aye' and I sir made up four.

It was a roughish kind of trip but Chatfield steered us well
I see him there with sea drenched hair facing what befell,
And when we'd brought them all to shore he shook us by the hand once more.
'I've met no braver men before, the truth to you I tell.'

For ten good years the Oyster Bank was beaconed by a spar
That stood in witness of the storm that sank the Lancaster
Five fathoms deep that rotting shell up reared the slender spar to tell
Of brave deed done so nobly well upon that very bar.

Then t'ward the close of winter, hard blowin' all the night
The great seahorses tearing high raced madly past the bight
Many a man came down to see if inbound craft there chanced to be
And sailor's wives watched anxiously out on the surging flood.

The 'Carrwarra' was coming in, I knew her bow so well
We watched her as she struggled on and battled with the swell
We stood there watching through the blast and hoped that once the Nobby's past
The Harbour she might make at last, none but the god's could tell.

She tried to turn again to sea but a snow white whiff of steam
Told us that her fires were spent, she drifted on her beam,
The engines by the waves were quenched, the men by those same waves were
drenched,
Watcher's hearts were sorely wrenched with hope a fading gleam.

No boat stood out to rescue those still clinging to the deck
Though one was there with sea drenched hair who now stood on the deck
The beacon pointing to the sky urged us not to let him die
But his same noble feat to try no man would risk his neck.

Many's the time at midnight I've heard the tempest roar
I've lain awake and wished that I could have the chance once more,
To be the one to leave the crowd and call his name out clear and loud
And free from Neptune's salty shroud bring him back to shore.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 18 Sep 20 - 02:17 AM

another of Kevin Baker's great songs

Aunty Rooney's on a Sunday

Getting up on Sunday morning I can hear my parents talking
Saying how it's been a long time and it doesn't look like rain
And I know it's Aunty Rooney's where my feet will soon be walking
First to mass at Kogarah then to Banksia by train
And I think Mass will never end, O'Farrell's in the pulpit
And I wonder how my father felt to find his mother gone
But Aunty Rooney raised him when his mother went to Heaven
With the help of Aunty Mary and Uncle Pat and John

Soon the Mass is over and to Kogarah we will amble
Waiting on the platform looking down the track for trains
We spot it in the distance and soon on it we will scramble
My sister grabs the window-seat and off we go again
We get off at Banksia station with it's many beds of flowers
The Station-Master tells us he's won a prize or three
We find our way to Short Street but it seems to take us hours
As we watch out for the wooden house with it's Frangipani tree

Chorus -
And they're formerly of Redfern and late of County Galway
They tend the Celtic home-fires with a kind of loving hand
With each new generation they extend the celebration
And keep the green of Ireland growing in this golden land

Aunty Rooney tends the oven; Aunty Mary sets the places
They take their turns in scolding John who hit the grog last night
Uncle Pat returns the book he reads to one of his book-cases
And greetings break upon us as we step into the light
And after we've had our dinner comes the time that's most exciting
All the chairs go in a circle; Uncle Kev is asked to sing
He gives us Kevin Barry then my father's up reciting
Today I'll play the mouth organ my mother let me bring

Chorus

Well everyone did something with sometimes some harmonising
Though Colleen blushed and giggled and her sister wasn't keen
"No politics" calls Mary but just hear the voices rising
John has started something with "The Wearing of the Green"
So it's "Children to the backyard. Go! Come on now, use your nouses"
We'd rather stay inside but still the yard is parent-free
We roll and run for hours until Aunty Rooney rouses
"Now who has knocked that branch down from my frangipani tree?"

Chorus

Soon five-o'clock comes round and now the winter sun's declining
Grown-ups are startled by the time start straining to get home
John says: "Why not stop for tea?" but mum says she's got ironing
And things to do before her tribe is fit next week to roam
And home in bed before I sleep I catch my memories to me
And all those lovely moments get entangled in my dreams
And I hope I never get too old to go to Aunty Rooney's
To eat and laugh and sing with friends and raise the old roof-beams

chorus

Recording by Penny Davies and Roger Ilott.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 18 Sep 20 - 02:14 AM

An Ozzie favourite for you -

"Christmas has been cancelled" by Paul Mortimer (nowadays found in the Gaelic Club & at Irish sessions, wot a loss to the folk world!)
(Tune: Lili Marlene) K-Tel records were around in the 60s & 70s & Toltoys distributed (original) Star Wars toys.

Christmas has been cancelled,
Santa Claus is dead.
When the scandal broke
He put a bullet through his head.
Pinned to his chest they found a note
Admitting what - the papers wrote:
That he was on the payroll
Of Toltoys and K-tel.

It was bigger still than Lockheed
Worse than Watergate.
Kids throughout the world
Called for his head upon a plate
The myth was destroyed and in its wake,
Old Santy stood there a callous fake.
And evidence is mounting
That he was C.I.A.

The Church it tried to brand him
A charlatan and worse.
The Pope said 'Keep off Christmas, mate,
We used that number first,
As a time when all good Christians sing
Of Jesus Christ and cribs and things.
Of course it's only bulldust
To get the faithful in.'

Further allegations
Have made the papers wail,
That Santa's love for children
Was way beyond the pale,
He always liked to give out toys
To little girls and little boys.
It seems that he was harmless
But some don't understand.

Well we can still be jolly
And celebrate New Year,
And we'll be nice to other folks
More than once a year.
With no tinsel trees or plastic snow
Or jingle bells or yo ho ho's.
And no more f***ing reindeer
Or little drummer boys.

Repeat first verse.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: rich-joy
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 11:44 PM

Ah yes! Fond memories of Batey singing 'Gutboard Blues' at the Turret!!

My experience of EnZed songs is sadly not much more than Phil Garland and Martin Curtis concerts at the Turret, back in the 80s.

Though I recall liking Paul Metser's Farewell to the Gold plus :
Hills of Coromandel / Bright Fine Gold / Farewell to Geraldine / Wind Among the Tussocks? / Tuapeka Gold / Long and Friendly Road / Packing My Things, of course as posted ...... and there's always Peter Cape's She'll Be Right Mate!


I have to get back to werk now, I'll check in in a few days!
Cheers, R-J

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 10:14 PM

This one was always a great favourite at the gun turret in Darwin back in the day.

GUTBOARD BLUES
(Dave Jordan)

Well I'm off down the road every mornin' 'bout eight
Down on the job, and it's a job (that) I hate,
Hackin', cuttin' mutton gut on a contract basis
I climb into my overalls and take my place as
The boss comes along and he tells me that
I’ve got to strip and clip a stomach every second flat
So I bust a gut just to get the job all done
Hackin', cuttin' mutton gut until the cows come home
   
Sling 'em here, sling 'em there
Them guts keep a-comin' in from ev'rywhere
I’ve got more trouble than I’m able to use
I've got hackin', cuttin', bust-a-guttin' gutboard blues

Now down through the 'chute with a slosh and a slop
Them sheep guts drop and never seem to stop
So I grab me a stomach and I split it wide
Then I trim it and I scrape it till it's clean inside
Then I turn on the hose and let the water run
Chuck it on the pile, and that's another one done
The pace is hot, I stop a spot and mop my brow,
And my face has all been covered up with digested grass by now

Sling 'em here, sling 'em there
Them guts keep a-comin' in from everywhere
I need the money and a beggar can't choose
I got the sloshin', sloppin', never-stoppin' gutboard blues

Now there's hydrochloric acid eatin' into my head
My hair's turnin' green and I’ll smell like I'm dead
There's jokers all around me sloshin' juice on my knees
And the temperature's a-hittin' 'bout a hundred degrees
I've had a gutsful of guts, I'm tellin' you true
I don't think that I could stomach one more ewe
It's a way of makin' money and a living, but --
Sheep, I hate your guts!

Sling 'em here, sling 'em there
Them guts keep a-comin' in from everywhere
How else can I afford to live the life that I choose
Without them acid-burnin', stomach-churnin'
Money-earnin' gutboard blues

Go drop dead!

The gutboards referred to in Dave Jordan’s 'Gutboard Blues' are now called ‘viscera tables’. At the time, sheep guts earned New Zealand $50 million a year exported as sausage skins. As one freezer said, ‘It’s sometimes what you have to handle that is the guts of the matter’. Dave explained:

I worked at Fielding Freezing works in the summer holidays of ’65 and ’66, but as a point-switcher on the mutton/lamb grading lines. My best mate at the time, Graeme Cowley, was on the gutboard. I wrote the song out of sympathy for him after asking him one time why the skin was coming off his hands and his toes appeared to be rotting off, and why he smelled like vomit all the time.

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 09:45 PM

STRONG WINDS FOR AUTUMN
(Bob McNeill)

Strong winds for Autumn
Better bring those engines up
No sail can carry my love
No words will guide her
The calling voice is silent

And I watched them make turns for ten knots
I went each day to the end of the dock
Till the day my Annie sailed
On the last boat down the weeping loch

When the sickness came
I suffered with my friends
One day I thought the world would end
In the dark I called her name
The others there heard nothing

And I watched them make turns for ten knots
I felt her wake with my feet in the surf
Till even that was calm
And the last boat had gone

Sail away my Annan love
No breeze can catch you now
It's all clear
There's only memories here
This year will know no winter

[Instrumental break]

And I watched them make turns for ten knots
The cries of the gulls filled the air as I watched
The day my Annie sailed
On the last boat down the weeping loch

Chorus (X2)

Strong winds for Autumn
Better bring those engines up

Bob McNeill moved from Glasgow to New Zealand in 1998 and established himself as one the country’s foremost singer-songwriters. He has twice won the Recording Industry of New Zealand’s award for ‘Best Folk Album’. In relation to his best-known song, 'Strong Winds for Autumn' about a community off the coast of Scotland, he noted:

In small coastal communities, there was sometimes a delicate balance between the number of people in the community and the amount of work needed to feed them. If many people died from illness at one time, often this left too few people to get enough food in to enable the community to survive the winter. In the song, a village is evacuated for this reason. The story is told from the perspective of a man who died from the sickness.

You can hear Bob introducing and singing this song at about the 5-minute mark of this set:

Youtube

Emily Smith did a fine cover:

Emily

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 09:23 PM

Here's a tour around NZ. R-J, I think you sent me a copy of the album by 'When the cat's been spayed".

TEA AT TE KUITI
(Ken Avery)

I'm havin' tea at Te Kuiti with my sweetie
Then a row at Rotorua on the waves
Do a tour of Turangi
When the Maoris have a hangi
Then I'll wind up in the old Waitomo caves

I'm gonna tread the narrow path at Ngar'awahia
And dash to Dannevirke before the beer is cut
I'm going to town at Taum'runui
Wander down the Wangernewy
Then I'm go'ng'ta live it up at Upper Hutt

I'm gonna chat about the Chateau Tongariro
I'm gonna talk about the Tokomaru Bay
And when I tell a man or two
About the Manawatu
They'll wonder why I ever went away

I'm gonna crow about the good old Coromandel
And tell them where I'd like to see Waiwera shore
Although it sounds like Taranaki
When I'm shooting at Wairakei
I can always hit a geothermal bore

I'm gonna have a cuppa tea on Kapati Island
And a cup of coffee in Kawhia town
Drink a handle or a schooner
When I tack at Takapuna
Where the Waitamata never lets me down

I want to eat a pie at old Paekakariki
See the wishing well in Wellington and then
When we pull in to Kaiwhara
There's a fiver I can borrow
So I'll turn around and do it all again

Interlude   Been there … etc

I'm gonna travel in by car to Invercargill
Then I’ll meet a man at Manapouri Lake
Though I'm not the one to boast
I've been toasted on the coast
And washed ashore at Taylor's Big Mistake

I've eaten oysters in the stew at Stewart Island
And met a mutton-birder down at Foveaux Strait
I've tried to bluff them at the Bluff
Each time I said I'd had enough
They put another dozen osters on my plate.

I'm gonna canter on the plains at Canterbury
I'm gonna rue the day I leave ol' Oamaru
I'll spend the winter on the inter -
Island ferry, makin' merry
An' wait for North and South to come in view

Now you can see a lot that's new in ol' New Zealand
You c'n keep your Port of Spain an' Mexico
But if if you plan to go away
Down A-o-tee-a-ro-a way
A Kiwi always tells you where to go
- "Look out for Trentham" -
A Kiwi always tells you where to go

My source for this little ditty is an all-female Kiwi group entitled ‘When the cat’s been spayed’. It is from the pen of Ken Avery from Dunedin who was known for his novelty songs featuring wordplay and exotic names – classics such as 'The dog dosing strip', 'When the scrum is on the ball' and 'The way she handled the clutch'.

NZ Sheilas

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 08:40 PM

Way back in this thread (on 19 Aug) Mysha mentioned 'By the dry Cardrona'. Here ya go:

BY THE DRY CARDRONA
(James K. Baxter)

Oh I can tell where the cherries grow
By the dry Cardrona
Where I picked them long ago
On a day when I was sober
On a day when I was sober

My father wore a parson's coat
By the dry Cardrona
He made a tally of the sheep and the goats
But I was never sober
I was never sober

My mother sewed her Sunday skirt
By the dry Cardrona
They say she died of a broken heart
For I was never sober
I was never sober

I loved a young girl, and only one
By the dry Cardrona
She up and married the banker's son
For I was never sober
I was never sober

I courted a widow of forty-nine
By the dry Cardrona
She owned a stable and a scheelite mine
But I was never sober
I was never sober

Lay my bones till the judgement crack
By the wild Cardrona
A blanket swag all on my back
To pillow me drunk or sober
Pillow me drunk or sober

All rivers run to a rimless grave
Even the wild Cardrona
But never a one will come my way
Till I am stone cold sober
Till I am stone cold sober

I can tell where the cherries grow
By the wild Cardrona
Where I picked them long ago
On a day when I was sober
On a day when I was sober

One of New Zealand’s best-known poets, James Keir Baxter, featured his poem,'By the Dry Cardrona', in his 1958 radio play, 'Jack Winter’s Dream'. The dry Cardrona is a symbol of the spritual aridity of his early life in contrast with the life-giving? springtime snowmelt waters of the wild Cardrona that nourish the cherry trees along its banks. Scheelite, which is mentioned in the poem, is an important source of tungsten, a very hard metal.

English folkie, Steve Turner, always did it justice:

Youtube clip

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 08:25 PM

The inimitable Kath Tait was also a NZ icon before fleeing to London. Here's one of her best:

THE RIVER OF LIFE
(Kath Tait)

She was born in a middle-class town
She could have gone up, she could have gone down
But she just went around and around
On a downward spiral
One morning so fair and fine
She stole away while the moon did shine
Strayed on down the wayward line
Southwards of survival

(Chorus)
She could have been a lady
She could have been a wife
But she fell into the river of life
Swimming in a pool of trouble and strife
She really loved the danger
But the river of life it rolls and flows
Down by the banks where the brambles grow
Swimming around in trouble and strife
Way down low in the river of life

Over hills of thorns and valleys of scorn
Rambling like she was gypsy born
Travelling on through weather and storm
Without a thought for danger
But she was young and looking for fun
And dreaming of things she'd never done
So lost in sweet oblivion
She welcomed in the stranger

But the stranger he was a wanton rake
For he took her money and he called her a fake
And he shook her around like an old earthquake
And left her there for plunder
Now a heart gone down might never be found
Might lie in the dirt and roll around
But she was always on the rebound
And she never would go under

Chorus

Now the woman of character wins in the end
The river of life will be your friend
Not frail of heart, but a true upstart
The river of life has made her
And like a flood she did surely rise
High as the hills and the clear blue skies
She never was a lady but she was wise
And nothing much would change her

Chorus

Lin Van Hek and Joe Dolce did a beaut rendition for their 'Difficult Women' project.

Youtube clip

Kath Tait has been described as ‘the diva of the dysfunctional’. She departed New Zealand to live in London. The 'Waikato Times' noted:

It was inevitable she left New Zealand, having insulted most of her family and friends in her songs. Behind the cheerful guitar and sweet voice lie lyrics of barbed wire. The ironies of modern life are her inspiration, the contrast in her disarming delivery and often explicit words, is her charm.

--Stewie

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 08:03 PM

R-J, I remember Martin Curtis from his days in Tennant Creek back when the world was young.
Sandra has also now posted a song by a Kiwi. Let's go for it - our conspicuously absent moderator can always chuck 'em out!

Sandra, thanks for the Marcus Turner song. I posted the lyrics of his magnum opus, 'When the boys are on parade', over a decade ago. It is one of finest songs ever about armed forces. Andy Irvine's made it known outside NZ, but my favourite rendition is by Michael Black on his wonderful self-titled CD on Compass Records.

Michael Black

WHEN THE BOYS ARE ON PARADE
(Marcus Turner)

Here they come marching past the houses, shiny boots and khaki blouses
Stiff as the creases in their trousers, standing tall and straight and strong
And they all keep in step together, glint of steel and flash of leather
Braving every kind of weather as they boldly march along
You may dismiss it as a ploy for the enlistment of the boys
Who’ll be impressed to see the toys and play the games that can be played

Refrain:
And you may well prefer abstention but I feel compelled to mention
You’d do well to pay attention when the boys are on parade

Look at your sons before they’re older they’ll be stronger, they’ll be bolder
Just the thing to make a soldier and we’ll turn them into men
And they’ll be taught to follow orders, keep the peace and guard the borders
To protect us from marauders and defend us to the end
But the position they’ll be filling is to be able and be willing
To be killed or do the killing when there’s a price that must be paid

Refrain

In the pursuit of a community of decency and unity
And equal opportunity, we stand prepared to fight
And if there’s a threat to our position from aggressive opposition
Then, with guns and ammunition, we’ll repel with all our might.
We’ll dehumanise and hate them, send in the troops to decimate them
As in the name of the nation all it stands for is betrayed

Refrain

Merely the whim or intuition of an elected politician
Makes a melee without conditions as the monster quits the cage
It’s a machine that knows no quarter, dealing death and sowing slaughter
Raping mothers, wives and daughters in an all-consuming rage
We may well decide we need it and we’ll pay to arm and feed it
Can you tell me who will lead it when a decision must be made?

Refrain

Instrumental break

Some will wonder what’s to fear and say there is no danger here
But there has never been a year when soldiers haven’t been at war
And the eternal executions and the bloody revolutions
And the ultimate solutions, too, have all been seen before.
And there’s always someone scheming and some nights when I am dreaming
In the distance, I hear screaming and in my heart I feel afraid

Refrain

Here they come marching past the houses, shiny boots and khaki blouses
Stiff as the creases in their trousers, standing tall and straight and strong
And is it any cause for pride that now the women march beside them
Will they have wiser gods to guide them in discerning right from wrong?
‘Cause every step is a reminder of the threat that lies behind
If we forget the ties that bind us when the decisive game is played

Refrain

And as the procession passes by, consider the sight before your eyes
‘Cause it’ll be you they’ll kill and die for when called to the crusade
And you may love them and adore them, you may hate them and abhor them
But, for God’s sake don’t ignore them, when the boys are on parade

The late Marcus Turner was fine songwriter. One of his close friends wrote: ‘Multi-instumentalist, singer-songwriter, Marcus Turner, is a New Zealand folk music icon, regularly guesting at folk festivals and clubs for over 30 years … He is renowned for his astute song-writing from the dark to the endearing, from the political to the exceedingly funny’.

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: rich-joy
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 07:58 PM

I AM A TOLERANT MAN

anon (from WA Goldfields)

I don't mind blokes who digs or stokes,
Who fettle or work on derricks;
I can even stand a German band,
But I draw the line at clerics.

Ch.
Why strike me pink, I'd sooner drink
With a cove sent up for arson,
Than a rain-beseeching, preaching, teaching,
Blanky, cranky, parson.


I snort and jibe at the whole of the tribe,
Whatever their sect of class is -
From lawn-sleeved ranters to kerbstone canters,
From bishops to Army lasses.


Give me the blaspheming, scheming, screaming,
Barracking football garcons -
In preference, to the reverent gents,
The blithering, blathering parsons!


I couldn't get John Thompson's recording to play on his Oz Folksong a Day website, so here is one from "Les Wayfarers" :
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTm8_8MvRtc

"Words from John Lahey's Great Australian Folk Songs (1965) via Mudcat, where Bob Bolton notes that it is from the Western Australian goldfields."
Apparently an early poem in the "Kalgoorlie Sun" newspaper; music by John Lahey.




Cheers, R-J

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 05:41 AM

THE WHALE (Terry Fielding and Fred Dyer) - Fred used to post on Mudcat youtube

(Am) (G) (Am)
Di Di Di Di DA Di DE Di Di

(Am) They sailed from port one morning the (G) weather it was (Am) fair
A gentle breeze it pushed them and (G) no one gave a (Am) care
They sang and danced and (Am7) laughed that night and D opened up a (E) keg
They're (Am) out to catch the monster whale that (G) took the captain's leg
(Am) Di Di Di Di Da (G) Di DE Di (Am)Di

(Am)The Captain said "a piece of gold for (G)him who sees me (Am)whale"
So bend your backs and row me boys I(G) know that we won't (Am)fail

Chorus (chords as Verse1)

So bend your backs and row me lads and take me to me whale.
Tonight we'll sing and dance and tomorrow night we'll sail.
We'll sail into the harbour no prouder man there'll be;
We'll show them all we captured the monster from the sea
Di Di Di Di Di Da Di Di

They saw the whale one morning the weather it was fair
the men were white as ghosts, the Captain didn't care
I'll take this whale meself he cried the weak can stay behind
The strong can share my glory and tonight they'll share my wine
Di Di Di Di Di Da Di Di

The whale it came so close it was bigger than the sky
they lowered down the longboat and they heard the captain cry

Chorus
Bend your backs and row me lads and take me to me whale.
Tonight we'll sing and dance and tomorrow night we'll sail.
We'll sail into the harbour no prouder man there'll be;
We'll show them all we captured the monster from the sea
Di Di Di Di Di Da Di Di

Chorus

The whale it came so close it almost tipped the boat
The captain took his spear and he rammed it down it's throat
the whale it gave a mournfull cry and lifted it's great tail
and brought it down a crushing their small boat like a gale

(spoken)
Now 100 years have passed since the Captain and his men
went below to spend their days in Davy Joneses' den
The whale it goes on living but inside it bears a scar
And if your ever near that place a voice calls from afar

Chorus twice, last line:
We'll show them all we captured the monster from the sea

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 04:59 AM

I'm going thru my folder of songs - did you know there are 828 species of birds in Australia, one in 10 of the world's 10,000 or so living bird species.

BIRD SONG
    Words and Music John Broomhall

Adelaide Hills, it's early mornin', through the window see them yawnin',
Lonesome travellers wind their way back home;
Misty valleys, lofty ranges, signposts mock our weary strangers:
Pack a road map mate next time you roam!

There's a Kookaburra, Cuckoo, Bronzewing, Budgerigar,
Lorikeet, Cat Bird, Currawong, an old Galah;
Frog Mouth, Magpie, Miner, and a White-Winged Chough,
A Babbler, a Warbler, and even a bird called Rough.

Somewhere up in Northern Queensland, sunshine bright, golden sea sand,
We're lyin' on the beach the way that dreamers do.
Paradise Lost, ah poor John Milton, he didn't get to stay at the Douglas Hilton,
I guess he missed Mossman, Kuranda, and Cooktown too.

Seagull, Plover, Petrel, and Ocean Tern,
Albatross, Grebe, Shearwater and Frigate Bird;
Cormorant, Pelican, Gannet and Cockatoo,
Cassowary, Egret, Heron and Jabiru.

Life's a breeze in the centre of Australia, corroboree's the only regalia,
Wide brown land, and a sky that's big and blue;
Camel Drivers wearin' turbans, nothin' here you'd call suburban,
They're all dinkum Aussies through and through.

Curlew, Drongo, Falcon, Emu, Wren,
Brolga, Spoonbill, Duck and Native Hen;
Spinebill, Thrush and Lark up in the sky,
Swallow, Butcher, Robin, Silver-eye.

Soldier, Shoe Maker, Coot and Sooty Owl,
Buzzard, Booby, Bell and Mallee Fowl;
Rainbow, Sparrow, Crow and Whistling Kite,
A Wedge-tailed Eagle and a Boobook late at night.

(c) Copyright J. Broomhall 1991

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 04:28 AM

2 songs from the Shiny Bum Singers (Canberra Chris was a founding member)


I am Speaking [C] – Tune: Frere Jacques

I am speaking
I am speaking
And I’m right
And I’m right
You shut up and listen
You Shut up and listen
Or we’ll fight
Or we’ll fight
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There’s No Paper Here (tune: A Pub With No Beer) (words ©ShinyBumSingers 2020)

It's lonesome away, from your kindred and co.
In the throne-room at night, where we all have to go
But there's nothing so lonesome, so morbid or drear
Than to stand in an aisle, when there’s no paper here

Now the public is anxious, for the quota to come
There may not be paper, for a-wiping their bum
The Mums are all cranky, and the staff’s acting queer
What a terrible place, when there’s no paper here

Then the stock man rolls up, with his pallet shrink-wrapped
Overtaken by hoarders, he screams “Holy Crap!”
A mad glint in their eyes, as the rolls disappear
As with locusts to Egypt, there’s no paper here

There's a Dad on the dunny, for his shopper he’ll wait
But she’s a non-starter, having left it too late
She searches forlornly, despair ever near
There’s no place for a shopper, when there’s no paper here

Old Gilly the Greenie, first time in his life
Has run out of paper, and now he’s in strife
He’d settle for NewsCorp, but the irony’s clear
It’s a “digital” world, when there’s no paper here

(NewsCorp, Rupert Murdock's papers in Australia)

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 04:16 AM

Randwick Races    John Dengate   (Tune: "The Galway Races")

(D) We arrived at Randwick races, by (Em) taxi from Clovelly.
I had (C) money in my trousers, boys, and (G) schooners (D) in my (G) belly.
(G) Well the bookies (d) saw us (D) coming and they (Em) panicked in a crisis;
They (G) tinkered with the odds and they (Em) shortened (D) all their (G) prices.
Chorus: With my (D) whack, fol the do, fol the (Em) diddley idle (Em) day

Well the hunger it was gnawing and the thirst was in us rising
While the crowd's excited roaring reached a level quite surprising.
Oh, we swallowed several middies and demolished pies and sauces
And we set to work comparing prices, jockey's weights and horses.
Chorus: With my whack, fol the do, fol the diddley idle day

Denis Kevans said, "I reckon we will finish rich as Pharaoh
If we back the chestnut filly from the district of Monaro.
She's a trier, she's a flier, never knock her or decry her -
She's sixty-six to one; when she wins we']] all retire."
Chorus: With my whack, fol the do, fol the diddley idle day

There was every kind of punter from illiterates to scholars;
I struggled throuah the betting ring and wagered twenty dollars -
Then the horses were away; from the barrier they thundered
And we hoped that very day to collect the thirteen hundred.
Chorus: With my whack, fol the do, fol the diddley idle day

We shouted in despair; Denis Kevans tore his hair,
O'Dea began to swear at the filly from Monaro.
She was struggling in the pack and our very hearts were bleeding;
She was falling further back and the favourite was leading.
Chorus: With my whack, fol the do, fol the diddley idle day

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 04:12 AM

Both Sides Now (known as The Toast Song)
(Chris Clarke) - former Mudcatter Canberra Chris

In morning time when I arise
My breakfast fare is no surprise,
I pour the cornflakes, make the tea
And then reach for the bread.
I turn the gas on, light the grill,
And think this time I really will
Stay wide awake, make perfect toast
and start the day well-fed -

I'll lightly toast it both sides now,
Both up and down
To golden brown,
The toasting time I will recall,
I really can make toast
After all.

But then I read, to pass the time,
The cornflakes advertising rhyme,
I hear the news, but don't take in
A single item read.
And then an old, familiar smell
Invades the dreamworld where I dwell,
and fills the room with flames and smoke
and fumes of burning bread -

I've burnt the toast on both sides now,
Both front and back
To charcoal black,
The toasting time I don't recall,
I really can't make toast
After all.

And so I scrape it in the bin
Which makes the slices rather thin,
Then wipe the knife upon the cloth
Back in my dream-like state.
I butter it with marmalade,
Then to correct the mess I've made
Spread butter on the other side
And stick it to the plate -

My toast is buttered both sides now,
Both left and right,
I'm none too bright,
The buttering I don't recall,
I really can't make toast
At all.

Written in Perth, Western Australia, early 80s.
Chris Clarke

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 04:08 AM

another NZ song that used to be heard around the Sydney sessions years ago
Folksong NZ site

The chocolate Song by Marcus Turner (sound) bite of Chocolate

    When you're tired and depressed, and feeling lonely,
    When your chequebook's in the red, and you are blue,
    When you've left the freezer open,
    or your rubber band is broken,
    Or you've dropped the toilet paper down the loo,

    If you feel a sudden urge to wash the bread-knife,
    Or to sniff at the exhaust-pipe of your car,
    Or to farewell those you love 'n'
    take a nap inside the oven,
    STOP!... Salvation's just a sup from where you are!

      Chorus:
       When you're feeling down, the best way up is chocolate:
       It's the answer that will get you through the day.
       Let me get my teeth around
       something small and square and brown,
       And I'll masticate until I feel O.K.

    Now, when God had finished making all the heavens,
    And the valleys and the mountains and the seas,
    And the weather, and the weasels,
    and the squid, and German Measles,
    And the gherkins, and Hong Kong, and all the fleas,

    On the seventh day, as he was sitting resting,
    He was feeling in a very chipper mood.
    There came one more inspiration
    for one last divine Creation:
    Something fit to please a God, that could be chewed!

    Ch.

    When I see a bar of chocolate lying idle,
    It always seems to find its way inside my jaws.
    It's a shame to mess about,
    'cos it tastes better in than out,
    And it's going to a very worthy cause.

    And although it won't endear me to my dentist,
    And my doctor will be worried for my health,
    And it's given me a skinful
    of enormous oily pimples,
    I'm still feeling very good about myself!

    Ch.

    Just remember, if it's chocolate, you can eat it:
    Chocolate eggs and chocolate fish and chocolate chips,
    Chocolate steak and mousse and frogs,
    chocolate beans and mice and logs,
    Let a chocolate bomb explode across your lips!

    Some is crunchy, and is filled with Hokey-pokey,
    Some is thrown about by cowboys, and is white.
    There's a whole world out there waiting:
    don't just sit there salivating,
    Pull your socks up, brace yourself and Bite! Bite! Bite!

    Ch.

    You will never have a bad trip eating chocolate.
    And it's tastier than sex, and much more fun.
    Keep your pills and dope and glue,
    and your gin and whiskey too,
    'Cos there's no buzz like a chocolate Buzz - Bar none!

    If you really, really love me, give me chocolate,
    Give me chocolate 'till it's coming out my ears.
    All I crave is just enough
    so I can indolently stuff
    myself for years and years and years and years and years!

    Ch.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: rich-joy
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 04:05 AM

Greg Hastings! OMG Sandra, I rem'ber when his family first arrived - in Perth - with their Welsh accents and great songs - his shy young sister Val, in particular, had a lovely voice : COCKY BELL is a good song, which I think she wrote .....


But I have to add this one for Stewie!

THE GIN AND RASPBERRY

Written by Martin Curtis, c.1980

While hunting for fox we first came this way
From Lake Pembroke township took many long days
We cut through the bush and we found a new rush
With a mine called the Gin and Raspberry

Ch.
Oh, but it's hard, cruel and cold
Searching Cardrona for nuggets of gold
An ounce to the bucket and we'll all sell our soul
For a taste of the gin and raspberry

The rumors went out and the thousands poured in
A handful grew rich but many grew thin
They all hoped to find their own patch of tin
As rich as the Gin and Raspberry

At first it was summer and we all thought it grand
No shirts on our back as we sluiced and we panned
But then came the snow and the southern wind's blow
And there's ice down the Gin and Raspberry

Now Billy McGraw he worked hard and worked long
Ready to smile and to give us a song
But then he struck gold and was found dead and cold
Down in the Gin and Raspberry

So I'll work at the mine and I'll stay out of strife
I'll save all me gold to send home to me wife
And when the gold’s won I’ll leave at the run
And to hell with the Gin and Raspberry


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwN5A1zeROk
Martin Curtis singing his own song.

My GGGrandfather left Lancashire in 1857 for a new life in Victoria, but by the early 1860s he was in Sth Isle EnZed in these very same goldfields.   He found enough to buy a couple of pubs!
Cheers, R-J

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 03:52 AM

Greg Hasstings on didgeridoo traveling down Highway 1 (no words!)

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 03:40 AM

Greg Hastings - lyrics

Greg began his musical career as a founding member of the Mucky Duck Bush Band in 1973, 3 years after he migrated to Australia from Wales. In 1976 the band turned professional and rose to great heights of success in Western Australia. At the beginning of 1979 Greg launched his solo career, travelling to New Zealand, America, Canada, United Kingdom and Europe. He then returned to Australia for a year before setting off once more around the world in 1982. On his return to Australia in 1983, he began touring the continent extensively. For 25 years he has toured almost continually playing Festivals, Clubs, Tourist Resorts, Schools etc.
GGreg has traversed over 400,000 kilometres of this vast continent amassing a unique knowledge of Australia and Australians, including some of the most respected elders of the Aboriginal people. Learning to play the didgeridoo from them on his first tour of the Kimberley Aboriginal communities in 1988.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
reg's humorous, environmental protest song

COCA COLA CAN

T'was on the Canning Stock Route, by the Kannanagi Well
I parks the four wheel in the shade, the sun was hot as hell
I thought that I would have a leak where no man had before
But as I strolled off in the bush, imagine what I saw;
There were kangaroos, all sweat and flies, playing football in the sand
And the ball they were using was a Coca cola can.

CHORUS:
Why must I always be second (Mate)
It can't be part of the plan
Why must I always be second
To a Coca Cola Can

While Climbing up Ben Nevis on a cold and freezing day
The sun was falling lightly, so I took an easy way
And as I trudged up to the top, the sky began to clear
Just my footprints in the snow, no-one else was there.
Then I stood in silence, the horizon to scan
I spotted below me, a Coca Cola can.

CHORUS (Jimmy)

Now in the great Grand Canyon, on an early summer's morn
I thought if I climbed the side, I could watch the dawn
I struggled through the cactus, it must have been 5 miles
Thought that when I reached the top, I'd sit there for a while.
But as I reached that one last time, I felt beneath my hand
Yep, you guessed it, a Coca Cola can.

CHORUS (Yee Ha)

I thought I'd found an island where no man had ever been
No footprints in the sand, the water was so clean
So I went in for a swim, to wash the dust away
And as I swam down to the rocks to watch the fishes play
There, right below me, half buried in the sand
Was that red and white monstrosity, a Coca Cola can

CHORUS (By Jingo)

So if you're walking or you're riding or sailing on the sea
Don't throw your empties overboard and leave them there for me
I wouldn't come to your place, chuck me rubbish on the lawn
And if I did I'm sure you'd be the one to moan
But, if you didn't you wouldn't understand
Why I don't like coming second to a Coca Cola can

If we looked into the future, I wonder what we'd see
In a thousand years from now, I wonder where we'll be
For since the world begun, many places man has trod
Some believe in Einstein, some believe in God
But if whoever started it could reveal the plan
I am sure it would not include a Coca Cola can

Copyright Greg Hastings © 1980

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 03:39 AM

Greg Hastings - lyrics

Greg began his musical career as a founding member of the Mucky Duck Bush Band in 1973, 3 years after he migrated to Australia from Wales. In 1976 the band turned professional and rose to great heights of success in Western Australia. At the beginning of 1979 Greg launched his solo career, travelling to New Zealand, America, Canada, United Kingdom and Europe. He then returned to Australia for a year before setting off once more around the world in 1982. On his return to Australia in 1983, he began touring the continent extensively. For 25 years he has toured almost continually playing Festivals, Clubs, Tourist Resorts, Schools etc.
GGreg has traversed over 400,000 kilometres of this vast continent amassing a unique knowledge of Australia and Australians, including some of the most respected elders of the Aboriginal people. Learning to play the didgeridoo from them on his first tour of the Kimberley Aboriginal communities in 1988.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After seeing many a night 'ruined' by mismanaged sound systems, Greg penned this song.

TESTING 1, 2, 3 by Greg Hastings

For many years I've sung in places all around the world
No sweeter than the human voice in chorus can be heard
But now with our technology all reason has been lost
Sometimes I wonder if the end defeats the cost.

CHORUS
Cos it's testing, testing 1, 2, 3
We don't need electricity
Don't need a microphone to sing a song
So nice to hear the music back where we belong.

Once not long ago if you had a mind to sing
Friends would gather round you and make the rafters ring
But now with these amps they run in mortal fear
With the booming of a microphone ringing in their ear

CHORUS

Now the local musos gather round
With their ultra quado phonic sound
The crowd was stunning nearly yelled for more
When one he counted up to four !
His quiet little voice was made to sound
Just like Michael Jackson in the London underground
With digital delays, effects by the score
Just one check blew his audience through the door

CHORUS

I stayed at that club till just a few were there
Speakers the size of tea chests standing on a chair
I checked, it buzzed, everything went wrong
When I finally got to singing, the audience had gone.
Saying why can't you just sing to me
Without this testing 1, 2, 3
We long for the day you can do without
Because it's far too loud and it hides your mouth.

CHORUS

Yes, I feel acoustic music is music of the soul
Sharing it in harmony should always be our goal
The way things are going it's very plain to see
Before we can speak we'll have to test 1, 2, 3
But they'll flick a switch and they won't say when
Before you know we'll have to sing again
But I can sing to you and you can sing to me
There'll be no more testing 1, 2, 3



Copyright Greg Hastings ©
https://www.greghastings.com/asongs.html#top

m

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 03:31 AM

Alistair Hulett winners

https://www.alistairhulett.com/alistair-hulett-memorial-fund/songs-for-social-justice-award-aus/ (2019 & 2020 winners are not yet on the website, so I contacted one of the organisers)

Winner of the 2020 Songs for Social Justice Award: Karen Law for Wildflower Woman. (Qld newspaper)

Winner of the 2019 Songs for Social Justice Award: Penelope Swales for Cambridge Analytica (NFF website)

Winner of the 2018 Songs for Social Justice Award: Teri Young for ‘Fishing at Okehampton Bay’

Winner of the 2017 Songs for Social Justice Award: Miguel Heatwole for ‘Better Times’

Winner of the 2016 Songs for Social Justice Award: Tony Eardley for ‘Sally Cross the Water’

Winner of the 2015 Songs for Social Justice Award: Paddy McHugh for ‘The Snowmen’

Winner of the 2014 Songs for Social Justice Award: Miriam Jones for ‘Post Post Feminist Revolution’

Winner of the 2013 Songs for Social Justice Award: The Lurkers for ‘Mining Man’

Winner of the 2012 Songs for Social Justice Award: Steph Miller for ‘The Riverside’

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: rich-joy
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 02:58 AM

Another song from the pen of Hendo (I remember this played regularly on the radio) :

Put a Light in Ev'ry Country Window"

DON HENDERSON

Ch.
Put a light in every country window
High-speed pumps where now the windmills stand
Get in and lay the cable so that one day we’ll be able
To have electricity all over this wide land.


Miners tunnel to feed the fires at Wangi
While others scrape the brown coal at Yallourn
Turbine blades are yielding to the tumbling tons of Eildon
And the Snowy will be finished before long.


The little farms and giant outback stations
They all are mechanised today
For milking cows and shearing sheep to do it fast and do it cheap
Electrically is the modern way.


The old Coolgardie and the red-hot woodstove
They all have seen their day at last
For now the ice and fire that is coming on the wire
Has made them all relics of the past.


Ch.
Put a light in every country window
High-speed pumps where now the windmills stand
Get in and lay the cable so that one day we’ll be able
To have electricity all over this wide land.


Here is Gary Shearston's version : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6NScBO_JWU

Who knows if in another 50 years, Electricity will still be "the modern way"?!


Coolgardie Safe : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coolgardie_safe



Cheers, R-J

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: rich-joy
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 02:40 AM

BOONAROO

Don Henderson, 1968

Ch.
Oh, who will man the Boonaroo?
Who will sail her, be the crew,
sailing on the Boonaroo?

Is there food and is there store
to feed the hungry, clothe the poor?
In this world their number isn't few.
In her cargo would you find
any way for one mankind,
sailing on the Boonaroo.

Is there bandage by the reel?
Is there medicine to heal?
Christ knows, there's healing work to do.
In her cargo would you find
any way for one mankind,
sailing on the Boonaroo?

Would the hull be filled with material to build,
perhaps a bridge for a world that's split in two?
In her cargo would you find
any way for one mankind,
sailing on the Boonaroo?

Or jam packed in the hold,
is there grief and death untold
and asked "Why?" have to answer true.
In her cargo would you find
any way for one mankind,
sailing on the Boonaroo?


Thanks to Mark Gregory's Union Songs site : http://unionsong.com/u260.html

Don Henderson wrote:

"Australian seamen have manned the Australian National Line M.V.s Boonaroo and Jeparit sailing to Vietnam 'under strong protest'. In the case of the Boonaroo, which has already completed one round trip, the crew's continued hostility to the U.S. aggression in Vietnam, and the friendly contacts they established with Australian troops engaged in the war, are already a small part of Australian working-class history."



Cheers, R-J

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: rich-joy
Date: 17 Sep 20 - 02:24 AM

DECLAN AFFLEY SONGWRITING AWARD :

After mentioning the NFF’s 1987 winner, Mark Gillett, a few posts ago, I thought : “Now there’s a go! Probably many other winners of this competition should have their entry in Mudcat’s Aussie thread!”

Well, that was another idea and much time, lost down the rabbithole.

When I googled, many artists are proudly claiming to have been a winner (or a runner up) - and rightly so. However, where are the details of this award? Where is the List of previous winners and entries? How does one enter? Is it even still being awarded???

I could find no information on the current National Folk Festival (Australia) website about awards/comps – until, that is, I opened the 2019 Program Book, where a half page was devoted to the idea. It seems that ‘The Declan’ is no more and that the current thing is the Alistair Hulett Memorial Award for the best ‘social justice’ song, which follows on from the original British award. (but where now, do the writers of worthy non-social justice material go?!)

OK, there now appears to be a number of other awards (as well as the post-1994 Lis Johnston Awards, for vocal excellence) – but who would know that you have to add “/festival-awards/” up to the main URL, to be able to locate any info on the NFF website?? (and that’s just for 2019!)

Surely there should at least be some easily accessible, permanent page of The Nash’s website which acknowledges and celebrates past award winners, and their great music?

Because if not there, where is that info? At present it appears that it’s purely up to the actual artist to inform or remind us - IF they still have an online presence, that is – and IF we happen to come across their web data!!

So, can any regular Nash attenders (Sandra, Gerry, Graham et al), shed any light on this situation??!!


Cheers, R-J :)

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 16 Sep 20 - 11:19 PM

This one was a favourite in the Darwin folk scene.   Martyn Wydham-Read put a tune to Matt O'Connors' poem.

THE SHEARER'S LAMENT
(O'Connor/Wyndham-Read)

We finished shearing sheep
Out west of the Paroo
But now it's rained three inches
We don't know what to do.
A week ago the sand was loose
And dust blew every day
But now the mud is three feet deep
And we can't get away

I've just been talking to the boss
You all know Hector Cole
He says the Bulloo's two miles wide
To cross it there's no hope.
You hear a lot of people swear
About the dough we make
But they forget the price of beer
And all the combs we break

Well, why I took this job on
I just can't understand,
If the bloody sheep ain't waterlogged
The cows are full of sand
A man is doubled up all day
Half-blinded by his swea;
And when the darkness comes around
Cooped up in a mozzie net

It might have been a good job once
Those old hands had their breaks
They pushed a bike from shed to shed
And lived on johnny cakes
They had more time to do the job
They worked nine hours a day
And after paying for their grub
One pound a hundred paid

I think I'll give this job away
I'm sick of being a greasy
I've heard about a fencing job
They tell me it's dead easy

Youtube clip

Martyn noted: 'Some bush poems definitely invite a tune. "A shearer's lament" came from Matt O'Connor who contributed the odd ballad to the "Singabout" magazine in the 60s. This was his last contribution prior to his death in 1965.'

--Stewie.

Subject: RE: Rise Up Mudcat Songbook - Australia
From: Stewie
Date: 16 Sep 20 - 10:12 PM

I can't believe I did it again.

Anyhow, despite no answer re Kiwi songs, if R-J can post one, so can I. Here is my favourite - it has an Australian connection with Cobb & Co. Phil Garland put a tune to Peter Cape's lovely poem.

THE STABLE LAD
(Cape/Garland)

When Cobb & Co ran coaches from the Buller to the Grey
I went for a livery-stable lad in a halt up Westport way
And I gave my heart to a red-haired girl, and left it where she lay
By the winding Westland highway from the Buller to the Grey

There's Neatsfoot on my fingers, and lamp-black on my face
And I've saddle-soaped the harness and hung each piece in place
But my heart's not in the stable, it's in Charleston far away
Where Cobb & Co goes rolling by from Buller to the Grey

There's a red-haired girl in Charleston, and she's dancing in the bar
But I know she's not like other girls who dance where miners are
And I can't forget her eyes and everything they seemed to say
The day I rode with Cobb & Co from Buller to the Grey

There's a schooner down from Murchison, I can hear it in the gorge
So I'll have to pump the bellows now and redden up the forge
And I'll strike that iron so very hard she'll hear it far away
In the roaring European that the road runs by from Grey

Some day I'll be a teamster with the ribbons in my fist
And I'll drive that Cobb & Co Express through rain and snow and mist
Drive a four-in-hand to Charleston, and no matter what they say
I'll take my girl up on the box and marry her in Grey

There's a graveyard down in Charleston where the moss trails from the trees
And the Westland wind comes moaning in from off the Tasman seas
And it's there they laid my red-haired girl, in a pit of yellow clay
As Cobb & Co went rolling by from Buller to the Grey

Youtube clip

Back in the day, I once introduced with the following - I can't remember where I got the info.

This tragic love story of a stable hand and saloon girl is set against the colourful background of Cobb & Co coach travel. Freeman Cobb, an American, began Cobb & Co in Australia in 1853. From small beginnings, it became the biggest and best transport system in the world with branches in all Australian states (except Tasmania) and in NZ, South Africa and Japan. The red-haired girl in the poem is obviously Catholic. There are 2 graveyards in Charleston, one on a hill to the north and the Catholic one by the roadside where camper-vans of Japanese tourists go rolling from the Buller to the Grey River Valley. The 2-storey, corrugated-iron European Hotel eventually collapsed in the 1970s. Cobb & Co passengers all travelled one class, but travellers often paid big money to sit on the 'box seat' next to the driver to listen to his yarns, poetry and songs. Sometimes the box seat was auctioned to the higher bidder.

You can find more information here:

Click

--Stewie.