The Free-Selector's Daughter

Words: Henry Lawson
Tune: Traditional




I met her on the Lachlan Side --
A darling girl I thought her,
And ere I left I swore I'd win
The free-selector's daughter.

I milked her father's cows a month,
I brought the wood and water,
I mended all the broken fence,
Before I won the daughter.

I listened to her father's yarns,
I did just what I `oughter',
And what you'll have to do to win
A free-selector's daughter.

I broke my pipe and burnt my twist,
And washed my mouth with water;
I had a shave before I kissed
The free-selector's daughter.

Then, rising in the frosty morn,
I brought the cows for Mary,
And when I'd milked a bucketful
I took it to the dairy.

I poured the milk into the dish
While Mary held the strainer,
I summoned heart to speak my wish,
And, oh! her blush grew plainer.

I told her I must leave the place,
I said that I would miss her;
At first she turned away her face,
And then she let me kiss her.

I put the bucket on the ground,
And in my arms I caught her:
I'd give the world to hold again
That free-selector's daughter!

The Sandy Maranoa

Words: A.W.Davis
Tune: Traditional (Little Sally Waters)



The night is dark and stormy and the sky is clouded o'er
Our horses we will mount and ride away
To watch the squatters' cattle through the darkness of the night
And we'll keep them on the camp till break of day

Chorus
For we're going going going to Gunnedah so far
And we'll soon be into sunny New South Wales
We shall bid farewell to Queensland with its swampy coolibah
Happy drovers from the sandy Maranoa

When the fires are burning bright through the darkness of the night
And the cattle camping quiet well I'm sure
That I wish for two o'clock when I call the other watch
This is droving from the sandy Maranoa

Our beds made on the ground we are sleeping all so sound
When we're wakened by the distant thunder's roar
And the lightning's vivid flash followed by an awful crash
It's rough on drovers from the sandy Maranoa

We are up at break of day and we're all soon on the way
For we always have to go ten miles or more
It don't do to loaf about or the squatter will come out
He's strict on drovers from the sandy Maranoa

We shall soon be on the Moonie and we'll cross the Barwon too
Then we'll be out upon the rolling plains once more
We'll shout hurrah for old Queensland with its swampy coolibah
And the cattle that come off the Maranoa


Also known as Maranoa Drovers. Another from Paterson's Old Bush Songs.

The Swaggies Have All Waltzed Matilda Away

Alistair Hulett




You came to this country in fetters and chains
Outlaws and rebels with numbers for names
And on the triangle were beaten and maimed
Blood stained the soil of Australia
Dookies and duchesses, flash lads and whores
You worked their plantations and polished their floors
Lived in their shadow and died in their wars
Blood stained the soil of Australia

Does it quicken your heart beat
To see tar and concrete
Cover the tracks of the old bullock dray
Have you grown so heartless
To christen it progress
When the swaggies have all waltzed Matilda away

Driven like dogs from your own native home
Hardship and poverty caused you to roam
Over the bracken and over the foam
Blood stained the soil of Australia
Then in the fever for fortune and fame
You caused the poor blacks to suffer the same
Imprisoned on missions or hunted for game
Blood stained the soil of Australia

Its two hundred years since you came to this land
Betrayed by the girl with the black velvet band
And still to this day you don’t understand
Blood stained the soil of Australia
Koori and white, old Australian and new
Brothers and sisters of every hue
The future is ours, take the wealth from the few
And raise the Red Flag in Australia

Let it quicken your heart beat
The road’s at your own feet
Travel it lightly and travel it well
And don’t speak of success
Or christen it progress
Til the swaggies can all waltz Matilda as well



Alistair Hulett (1951-2010) was a great songwriter and social activist. This song was recorded with a band he formed in Sydney, Roaring Jack and was included in their 1988 album, Cat Among the Pigeons.

The Waterwitch

Traditional



A neat little packet from Hobart set sail
For to cruise 'round the westward for monster sperm whales;
Cruise in the westward, where the stormy winds blow,
Bound away in the Waterwitch, to the west'd we go.

CHORUS:
Bound away, bound away, where the stormy winds blow,
Bound away to the west'd in the Waterwitch we go.


Oh it's early one morning just as the sun rose;
A man from the masthead cries out: 'There she blows!'
'We're away!' cried the skipper, and springing aloft;
'Three points on the lee bow and scarce three miles off.


'Get your lines in your boats, my boys, see your box-line all clear,
And lower me down, my bully-boys, and after him we'll steer.
Now the ship, she gets full, my boys; to Hobart we steer,
Where there's plenty of pretty girls and plenty good beer.


'We'll spend our money freely with the pretty girls on shore,
And when it's all gone we'll go whaling for more.'
Bound away, bound away, where the stormy winds blow,
Bound away in the Waterwitch, to the west'd we go.


The Waterwitch was a whaling ship based in Hobart in the 1860s. This song was published in collections in the mid-twentieth century. I've used a tune based on the Wongawilli version.

Justice to Them

John Thompson




Down through the years, again and again.
The blue fist moves in; the names ring with shame
The Springboks, the marches, up in Cedar Bay
We saw our rights and our freedoms get taken away

CHORUS::
12 women and men with his fate in their hands
They let him go free and I don't understand
How he walked out the door and he claimed victory
What's justice to them isn't justice to me.

Mr Fitzgerald came onto the scene
Gunn thought the old joke would keep the boys clean
But the pimps and the coppers, the stories they could tell
Another two years and the government fell

The truth came to light and Sir Joh came to trial
With a wave for the cameras and an arrogant smile
But the jury was deadlocked, they couldn't be satisfied
That when the old man told his story, the premier had lied

Now was justice done, was justice observed
Or was justice twisted and mangled and turned
When justice drops the charges, when the guilty go free
What's justice to them isn't justice to me.



A song I wrote after the former Queensland premier, Sir Johannes Bjelke-Peterson's trial for perjury resulted in a hung jury and the decision was taken to not order a re-trial. The history of the Bjelke-Petersen government, the Fitzgerald hearings and the ultimate renovation of the Queensland political system are dealt with extensively in Evan Whitton's book, The Hillbilly Dictator. Well worth a look.

The Crime and Misconduct Commission site has a good summary of the Commission of Inquiry into Possible Illegal Activities and Associated Police Misconduct, including a link to the full report. The early chapters are an amazing summary of Queensland political history of the time.

Joh held the office of Queensland premier from 1968 until 1987. The illustration to this post is a photograph of him in full-flight.

The Black Velvet Band

Traditional



Twas in the city of London, in apprenticeship I was bound
And many's the happy sweet hour, I spent in that dear old town
One day as I was walking, along my usual beat
A pretty little young maiden, came tripping along the street

CHORUS:
And her eyes they shone like diamonds, I thought her the pride of the land
The hair that hung down on her shoulders was tied with a black velvet band

One day as we were walking, a gentleman passed us by
I could she was bent on some mischief by the roving of her eye
Gold watch she picked from his pocket and slyly placed it into my hand
I was taken in charge by a copper - bad luck to that black velvet band

Before the Lord Mayor I was taken: "Your case sir, I plainly can see
And if I'm not greatly mistaken you're bound far over the sea
It's over the dark and blue ocean Far away to Van Diemen's Land
Away from my friends and relations and the girl with the black velvet band


A song of many versions dating back to roughly the 1830s.

This version from Singabout, Volume 5, Number 1 (1963).

The illustration is a photograph of early Peelers, members of the first police force.

The Banks of the Reedy Lagoon

Unknown



The sweet scented wattle sheds perfume around,
Enticing the bird and the bee,
As I lie and take rest, in a fern-covered nest
In the shade of a Currajong tree.
High up in the air I can hear the refrain
Of the butcher bird piping his tune,
For the Spring in her glory has come back again
To the banks of the reedy lagoon.

I've carried my bluey for many a mile,
My boots are worn out at the toes,
And I'm dressing this season in different style
From what I did last year, God knows!
My cooking utensils, I'm sorry to say,
Consist of a knife and a spoon;
And I've dry bread and tea, in a battered Jack Shea
On the banks of the reedy lagoon.

Oh where is poor Frankie (and how he could ride!)
And Johnny the kind hearted boy?
They tell me that lately he's taken a bride
A Benedick's life to enjoy.
And Mac the big Scotsman? I once heard him say.
He wrestled the famous Muldoon.
But they're all far away, and I'm lonely today
On the banks of the reedy lagoon.

Oh where is the lady I often caressed,
The girl with the sad dreamy eyes?
She pillows her head on another man's breast
Who tells her the very same lies!
My bed she would hardly be willing to share
Where I camp in the light of the moon!
But it's little I care, for I couldn't keep square,
On the banks of the reedy lagoon.



First heard from Peter Bate at the Top End Folk Club.