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206 Works of Andrew Barton ‘Banjo’ Paterson

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[He and his gang stuck up the township of Canowindra for two days in 1859.] (Air: “Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.”) John Gilbert was a bushranger of terrible renown,For sticking lots of people up and shooting others down.John Gilbert said unto his pals, “Although they make a bobberyAbout our tricks we have […]

‘Tis of a wild Colonial boy, Jack Doolan was his name,Of poor but honest parents he was born in Castlemaine.He was his father’s only hope, his mother’s only joy,And dearly did his parents love the wild Colonial boy. Chorus Come, all my hearties, we’ll roam the mountains high,Together we will plunder, together we will die.We’ll […]

(Air: “Little Low Log Cabin in the Lane.”) The weather had been sultry for a fortnight’s time or more,And the shearers had been driving might and main,For some had got the century who’d ne’er got it before,And now all hands were wishing for the rain. Chorus For the boss is getting rusty and the ringer’s […]

Bold Jack Donahoo

Story type: Poetry

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In Dublin town I was brought up, in that city of great fame-My decent friends and parents, they will tell to you the same.It was for the sake of five hundred pounds I was sent across the main,For seven long years, in New South Wales, to wear a convict’s chain. Chorus Then come, my hearties, […]

(Air: “Wearing of the Green.”) If you want a situation, I’ll just tell you the planTo get on to a station, I am just your very man.Pack up the old portmanteau, and label it Paroo,With a name aristocratic-Jimmy Sago, Jackaroo. When you get on to the station, of small things you’ll make a fuss,And in […]

There’s a happy little valley on the Eumerella shore,Where I’ve lingered many happy hours away,On my little free selection I have acres by the score,Where I unyoke the bullocks from the dray. Chorus To my bullocks then I sayNo matter where you stray,You will never be impounded any more;For you’re running, running, running on the […]

I’m a broken-hearted miner, who loves his cup to drain,Which often times has caused me to lie in frost and rain.Roaming about the country, looking for some work to do,I got a job of reaping off a stringy-bark cockatoo. Chorus Oh, the stringy-bark cockatoo,Oh, the stringy-bark cockatoo,I got a job of reaping off a stringy-bark […]

Come, all ye lads an’ list to me,That’s left your homes an’ crossed the sea,To try your fortune, bound or free,All in this golden land.For twelve long months I had to pace,Humping my swag with a cadging face,Sleeping in the bush, like the sable race,As in my song you’ll understand. Unto this country I did […]

Immigration

Story type: Poetry

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[Mr. Jordan was sent to England by the Queensland Government in 1858, 1859, and 1860 to lecture on the advantages of immigration, and told the most extraordinary tales about the place.] (Air: “Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.”) Now Jordan’s land of promise is the burden of my song.Perhaps you’ve heard him lecture, […]

Dark over the face of Nature sublime!Reign’d tyranny, warfare, and every crime;The world a desert-no oasis greenA man-loving soul on its surface had seen;Then mercy above a mandate sent forthAn Eden to form-a refuge for worth.From the ocean it came, with halo so bright,Want, strife, and oppression were lost in its sight. Chorus First isle […]

The Free Selector

Story type: Poetry

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(A Song of 1861.) Ye sons of industry, to you I belong,And to you I would dedicate a verse or a song,Rejoicing o’er the victory John Robertson has wonNow the Land Bill has passed and the good time has comeNow the Land Bill, etc. No more with our swags through the bush need we roamFor […]

(Air: “The Bonnie Irish Boy.”) Come now, ye sighing washers all,Join in my doleful lay,Mourn for the times none can recall,With hearts to grief a prey.We’ll mourn the washer’s sad downfallIn our regretful strain,Lamenting on the days gone byNe’er to return again. When first I went a-washing sheepThe year was sixty-one,The master was a worker […]

I have come to tell you of the glorious news you’ll all be glad to bear,Of the pleasant alterations that are taking place this year.So kindly pay attention, and I’ll pass the whisper round,The squatters of their own free will this year will pay the pound. For this is a year of great prosperity, that […]

My Mate Bill

Story type: Poetry

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That’s his saddle on the tie-beam,And them’s his spurs up thereOn the wall-plate over yonder-You ken see they ain’t a pair. For the daddy of all the stockmenAs ever come mustering hereWas killed in the flaming mulga,A-yarding a bald-faced steer. They say as he’s gone to heaven,And shook off all worldly caresBut I can’t sight […]

(Air: “The Old Stable Jacket.”) A strapping young stockman lay dying,His saddle supporting his head;His two mates around him were crying,As he rose on his pillow and said: Chorus “Wrap me up with my stockwhip and blanket,And bury me deep down below,Where the dingoes and crows can’t molest me,In the shade where the coolibahs grow. […]

Shadows of the twilight fallingOn the mountain’s brow,To each other birds are calling,In the leafy bough.Where the daisies are a-springing,And the cattle bells are ringing,Comes my Mary, gaily singing,Bringing home the cows. By a bush the pathway skirted,Room for two allows.All the cornfields are deserted,Idle are the ploughs.Striving for wealth’s spoil and booty,Farmer boys have […]

We often hear men boast about the land which gave them birth,And each one thinks his native land the fairest spot on earth;In beauty, riches, power, no land can his surpass;To his, all other lands on earth cannot even hold a glass.Now, if other people have their boasts, then, say, why should not we,For we […]

(As sung by the camp fire.) No doubt the saying’s all abroad,And rattling through the land.We hear it at the mangle, too,With “What are you going to stand?”I’m sure I don’t know which to choose,There’s really such a lot-But I hope my song you’ll not refuse,For it’s only a way I’ve got. Chorus: Tol, lol, […]

The stockmen of Australia, what rowdy boys are they,They will curse and swear an hurricane if you come in their way.They dash along the forest on black, bay, brown, or grey,And the stockmen of Australia, hard-riding boys are they. Chorus: And the stockmen, etc. By constant feats of horsemanship, they procure for us our grub,And […]

[By A New Chum] (Air: “So Early in the Morning.”) When first I came to Sydney CoveAnd up and down the streets did rove,I thought such sights I ne’er did seeSince first I learnt my A, B, C. Chorus Oh! it’s broiling in the morning,It’s toiling in the morning,It’s broiling in the morning,It’s toiling all […]