The Sparrow and the Emu's Egg

Words:  Unknown (The Perfeser)
Tune:  John Meredith




There was a little sparrow, and he was out of work
So he humped his bluey on his back and he set out for Burke
He walked till he had bunions, then thought he would enquire
And found that he had only got as far as Nevertire.

He was hungry and so weary, he could hardly drag a leg
When suddenly beside the track he spied an emu's egg,
He popped it in his billy can to boil it for his tea,
And by his Waterbury watch, he counted minutes three.

And when the minutes three were up, he thought it time to stop
So he took his little tomahawk and he cut off the top
'Twas a pity that he boiled it, 'twould have been much better fried
For when he stooped to sup it up, he tumbled down inside

And when he fell in to the egg, he to his sorrow found
Three minutes wasn't long enough, and the poor little chap was drowned:
The moral of this story is: if emu eggs you seek
For supper, you should take great care and boil them for a week.


From the Joy Durst Memorial Song Collection, Victorian Folk Music Club, 1980.  Noted as being by The Perfesser, Sydney, about 1920.

The illustration above is a photograph of an emu's egg and a chicken's egg.

Old TI

Unknown




CHORUS:
Old TI, my beautiful home,
That's the place where I was born;
The sun and the moon that shine,
Make me long for home,
Old TI, my beautiful home.

TI, my beautiful home,
TI, my home sweet home.
Darling, won't you take me,
Where the sun is sinking, farewell.

Why are you looking so sad, my dear,
Why are you feeling so blue?
I'm thinking of someone so far away,
In that beautiful place called TI.

Take me across the sea,
Over the deep blue sea,
Darling, won't you take me,
Back to my home TI.

When at the break of dawn,
Your dear face I cannot see,
You will always think,
Always think of me.

Up above the clouds,
Your dear face I cannot see,
But in your memories dear,
Never, never say goodbye.


Another from the Joy Durst Memorial Australian Song Collection (1980 edition), published by the Victorian Folk Music Club.  Published with the following note:

Popularised by Joy Durst.  From Thursday Islanders at Cairns, Queensland.

TI is the popular name for Thursday Island, the administrative centre of the Torres Strait Islands which lie off the Northern tip of Queensland.   The islands have been part of Australia since their annexation by Queensland in 1879.  The indigenous population are Melanesian islanders.

The Torres Strait Island flag.

The Jolly Puddlers

 

Charles Thatcher 

They want to stop our puddling as many of you know 

Contractors say that of our slush there is an overflow 

But if they stop us they'll be sure to injure Bendigo 

 CHORUS: 

Drive on my lads, heigho, wash on my lads, heigho 

For who can lead the life that we jolly puddlers do. 

These blessed road contractors are trying us to crush 

They say that they're impeded by our muddy dirty slush 

They want to make us knock off but they'll find it is no go 

Why have our escorts fallen off, the questions pray don't shirk 

'Tis because it's been so dry and our machines have had no work, 

'Tis puddling not quartz reefing now that keeps up Bendigo. 

If you crush the puddling interest and stay the puddler's hand, 

What becomes of your fine buildings here that on the township stand? 

The commerce of the this district then would sink down precious low. 

The winter soon is coming and our dams will then be full. 

We'll run the stuff through the machines and then we'll have a pull 

And it its pristine glory will shine forth Bendigo. 

The days of tub and cradle, alas, alas are past, 

An ounce to every tub of course, was far too good to last, 

But still we get a crust for now we wash the stuff below. 

When puddling ceases for all here 'twill be a bitter cup, 

Heffernan and Thatcher too may both of them dry up, 

And to some other diggings they both will have to go. 

From The Joy Durst Memorial Australian Song Collection, published by the Victorian Folk Music Club, 1980.

The illustration to this post is from the Victorian Department of Primary Industries website, with the following caption: 

A horse-driven puddling machine in Central Victoria in the 1880s. Horse puddlers processed four times more sludge than a hand puddler. They created havoc in the creeks of Central Victoria as the fine sludge they produced was the consistency of batter. This clogged up waterways, flooding towns and goldfields.