Dunn, Gilbert and Ben Hall

Traditional



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.

Ben Hall

Traditional




Come all you young Australians and everyone besides
I'll sing to you a ditty that will fill you with surprise
Concerning of a ranger bold whose name it was Ben Hall
But cruelly murdered was this day which proved his downfall

An outcast from society he was forced to take the road
All through his false and treacherous wife who sold off his abode
He was hunted like a native dog from bush to hill and dale
Till he turned upon his enemies and they could not find his trail

All out with his companions men's blood he scorned to shed
He oft-times stayed their lifted hands with vengeance on their heads
No petty mean or pilfering act he ever stooped to do
But robbed the rich and hearty man and scorned to rob the poor

One night as he in ambush lay all on the Lachlan Plain
When thinking everthing secure to ease himself had lain
When to his consternation and to his great surprise
And without one moment's warning a bullet past him flies

And it was soon succeeded by a volley sharp and loud
With twelve revolving rifles all pointed at his head
Where are you Gilbert? where is Dunn? he loudly did call
It was all in vain they were not there to witness his downfall

They riddled all his body as if they were afraid
But in his dying moment he breathed curses on their heads
That cowardly hearted Condel the sergeant of police
He crept and fired with fiendish glee till death did him release

Although he had a lions heart more braver than the brave
Those cowards shot him like a dog no word of challenge gave
Though many friends had poor Ben Hall his enemies were few
Like the emblems of his native land his days were numbered too

It's through Australia's sunny climb Ben Hall will roam no more
His name is spread both near and far to every distant shore
For generations after this parents will to their children call
And rehearse for them the daring deeds comitted by Ben Hall


A second song regarding the bushranger, Ben Hall, this time collected by John Manifold from Sally Sloane.

Streets of Forbes

Traditional




Come all you Lachlan men and a sorrowful tale I'll tell,
Concerning of a hero bold who through misfortune fell,
His name it was Ben Hall, a man of good renown,
Who was hunted from his station, and like a dog shot down.

Three years he roamed the roads, and he showed the traps some fun,
One thousand pounds was on his head, with Gilbert and Jack Dunn.
Ben parted from his comrades, the outlaws did agree,
To give away bushranging and to cross the briny sea.

Ben went to Goobang Creek, and that was his downfall
For riddled like a sieve was the valiant Ben Hall,
'Twas early in the morning upon the fifth of May
That the seven police surrounded him as fast asleep they lay.

Bill Dargin he was chosen to shoot the outlaw dead,
The troopers then fired madly and they filled him full of lead,
They rolled him in his blanket and strapped him to his prad,[8]
And they led him through the streets of Forbes, to show the prize they had.


The story of the bushranger, Ben Hall. This song is sometimes attributed to John McGuire, Ben Hall's brother-in-law, this song was collected by John Manifold. I learnt it at school. This version is from the cloudstreet album, Swallow the Concertina.