Way down Eurobin, Ovens Valley, Where we reside, Growing hops and picking for a tally Good for the beer inside
CHORUS: All the world may be sad and bleary Feeling all alone But we are always so bright and cheery Hopping away down at home.
Awaking fresh and bright each morning Breathing the smell of hops Gone before is drowsiness and yawning Fighting fit for unions and cops
"Flowers of the forest" pickers gather Hooking down from the wire Checking weights from kids, Mum and Father Calling each other a liar.
So may you who like your evening snorter Give a thought to how it's made Never let it be known that you have bought a beer With a dash of lemonade.
Another from Ron Edwards, this collected from Stan Dean of Cairns, a song he wrote in the 1920s as part of a skit he wrote while picking hops in Victoria.
Another great disaster has come upon this land Out where the Lachlan River flows on its way so grand Was in the month of August and the town was bright and gay And the folks out on the lachlan they were happy all the day
And then the skies grew cloudy and the rain came fallen down All day the mighty torrents came falling to the ground The streams throughout the country kept swelling day by day Until the angry Lachlan, it was roaring on its way
And then there came a warning , the levees cannot stand A brave important struggle to save their native land But still the raging water kept pounding at the shores Until it broke the levee banks and into Forbes it poured
How many homes were flooded and brave men knelt to pray As all that they had cherished was madly swept away The world will gladly help them to pay the awful cost But no-one can ever give them back the treasures they have lost
We can't explain the reason these great disasters come But we all must remember to say "Thy will be done" And though the good may suffer for other people's sins There is a crown awaiting where eternal life begins.
As I strolled out one morning The birds did sweetly sing And being Sunday morning The village bells did ring As I walked on contemplating On nature's beauty store I beheld a lovely maiden Twas Mary of Kilmore
She on the grass was seated A young man by her side He asked if she would name the day That she would be his bride He was her own true lover For I heard the vows he swore That he would ever constant be To Mary of Kilmore
She said, "My dearest Henry" "I wish that we had never met" "Since my parents won't give their consent" "For me to marry yet" "And about you, dearest Henry" "They bade me think no more" "But separation is worse than death" Said Mary of Kilmore
"If your parents have objections" "There's one thing we can do We can go down to Melbourne town And there I'll marry you This very night we'll take a flight So gather up your store Oh, that I'll do quite willingly Said, Mary of Kilmore
So this wronged yet beautiful maiden Her lovers wish did keep But out her bedroom window When her parents were asleep She shed no tears at parting Though her heart was troubled sore She made haste to meet her lover Did Mary of Kilmore
And soon by coach and horses They were quickly whirled away They arrived in Melbourne town At 10 o'clock next day So attractive was the cottage And the bridal dress she wore She soon became a wedded wife Did Mary of Kilmore
But her husband proved a gambler Which caused her many a tear And to his home he'd not return Til day was drawing near Though attractive was the cottage All by the tranquil shore She did not feel contentment Poor Mary of Kilmore
And one day when meditating With sorrow at her lot She was handed in a letter Which caused her blood to start It told she was no wedded wife Though the wedding ring she wore And that the marriage was all a sham Poor Mary of Kilmore
So she took her infant in her arms And across the fields did roam To visit again with a broken heart Her childhood's happy home But she found the cottage as she left With ivy towering o'er For her parents died of broken hearts Poor Mary of Kilmore
So now my pitiful story I'll bring it to an end Her husband he's in Pentridge Her child is with a friend And within the Kew asylum You'll hear the mournful roar Of that wronged but beautiful maiden Poor Mary of Kilmore
Mentioned by Russel Ward in his autobiography as having been heard from Hoopiron Jack. Keith McKenry reports that Ward thought the song was marked by "maudlin sentimentality" and "deserving of oblivion"
Keith McKenry found further lyrics in the National Library archive and included it in his Lost Folk Songs of Australia collection.
A Roller-coaster ride of adventure and romance. Derived at least in part from an Irish song of the same name.
Kate Burke put this tune to the words, the tune being from a song about the bushranger, Harry Power
The illustration to this post is a photograph of Kew Asylum.
A conglomeration of the available fragments. The first:
Recorded by John Meredith from the singing of Jack Luscombe, aged 86 (in March, 1953), of Ryde, N. S. W. Luscombe learned the song in Queensland during the 1890s. The second stanza appearing In "The Bulletin" of June 10th, 1882.
The verses:
Collected by Warren Fahey from Cyril Duncan (source: 1- cassette collection of ABC Radio programs: While the Billy Boils, A Panorama of Australian Folklore, devised and scripted by Warren Fahey, Australian Broadcasting Commission, 1981. [ISBN 0 6442 975817]
The illustration is a contemporary newspaper illustration. The caption reads:
"THE OUTLAWS AT BAY. SCENE OF THE ATTACK ON JONES'S HOTEL AT GLENROWAN"
Words: John Dengate Tune: Trad (The Knickerbocker Line)
As I was walking down the road, he suddenly appeared: A bloody turbaned Moslem with a big Bin Laden beard; I asked, "Are you a terrorist, is that your bloody lurk?" He said, "No, I'm a carpenter, I'm on my way to work."
CHORUS: I watched him, tracked him, rang up A.S.I.O. I dobbed him into Alan Jones on talk-back radio. I may not be a beauty and I don't have any sense But, by God, I know my duty to the national defence!
They're going to bomb the Harbour Bridge then quiet as a mouse, They'll sneak up with explosives and blow up the Opera House. They're going to blow up Murphy's pub. I've heard about the plot… I hope they get the pokies 'cause I'm losing quite a lot.
There's terrorism everywhere; it makes a man afraid… I’m buying a machine gun and I'll build a barricade. You'll have to know the password if you come and visit me. Shoot first, ask questions later mate, that's my philosophy.
My Aunty May's eccentric; "You’re paranoid," she said. She doesn't believe the terrorists are underneath the bed. She reckons it's "hysteria"… I don’t know what she meant… She said she’s far more frightened of the Federal Government.
John Howard will protect us, he is very strong and brave; He's passing legislation that will make you all behave! You won't be facing Mecca on that silly bloody mat You'll all be Church of England, Abdul, cogitate on that!
Final Chorus Watch them, track them…
Another parody from the wonderful pen of John Dengate.
Come all you sons of liberty and listen to my tale A story of bushranging days I will to you unveil. 'Tis of those valiant heroes, God bless them one and all! We'll sit and sing: 'God save the King, Dunn, Gilbert, and Ben Hall.'
Ben Hall he was a squatter, and he owned six hundred head; A peaceful, quiet man was he until he met Sir Fred. The troopers burned his homestead down, his cattle perished all. 'I've all my sentence yet to earn, was the word of brave Ben Hall.
John Gilbert was a flash cove, and young O'Meally too, With Ben and Bourke and Dunn and Vane they all were comrades true. They bailed the Carcoar mailcoach up and made the troopers crawl. There's a thousand pound set on the heads of Dunn, Gilbert, and Ben Hall
From Bathurst down to Goulburn town they made the coaches stand, While far behind, Sir Frederick's men were labouring thro' the land Then at Canowindra's best hotel they gave a public ball: We don't hurt them that don't hurt us, says Dunn, Gilbert, and Ben Hall.
They held the Gold Commissioner to ransom on the spot , But young John Vane surrendered after Micky Bourke was shot. O'Meally at Goimbla did like a hero fall; But 'We'll take the country over yet,' says Dunn, Gilbert, and Ben Hall.
They never robbed a needy man, the records go to show, Though staunch and loyal to their mates, unflinching to the foe; So we'll drink a toast tonight, my lads, their memories to recall. Let us sit and sing: 'God save the King, Dunn, Gilbert, and Ben Hall!'
A version compiled by John Manifold. Posted to Mudcat by Bob Bolton in 1998.
The illustration to this post is a sketch of John Gilbert, bushranger.
