Saturday, April 9, 2011

Where's Your License?




Charles Thatcher





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The morning was fine,
The sun brightly did shine
The diggers were working away
When the inspector of traps
Said now my fine chaps
We'll go license hunting today
Some went this way, some that
Some to Bendigo Flat
And a lot to the White Hills did tramp
Whilst others did bear
Up towards Golden Square
And the rest of them kept round the camp

Each turned his eye
To the holes close by
Expecting on some down to drop
But not one could they nail
For they'd give 'em leg bail
Diggers aren't often caught on the hop
The little word Joe
That most of you know
Is a signal the traps are quite near
Made them all cut their sticks
And they hooked it like bricks
I believe you, my boys, no fear

Now a tall, ugly trap
He espied a young chap
Up the gully a-cutting like fun
So he quickly gave chase,
But 'twas a hard race,
For mind you, the digger could run
Down the hole he id pop
While the bobby up top
Says - "just come up", shaking his staff
"Young man of the crosn.
If yer wants me come down,
For I'm not to be caught with such chaff.

Of course you'd have thought
The sly fox he'd have caught
By lugging him out of the hole;
But this crusher no fear
Quite scorned the idea,
Of burrowing the earth like a mole;
But wiser by hald
He put by his staff
And as onward he went sung he-
"When a cove's down a drive,
Whether dead or alive,
He may stay till doomsday for me."


From the Victorian Songster of 1855 by Charles Thatcher, a fascinating character of his time.

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