Stirling-O

Unknown



No lark in transport rides the sky
Nor leaves with early plaintive cry
But I must bid my last goodbye
My last fairwell to Stirling O

Though far away my heart's with you
Those happy hours from us they flew
And I must bid a sad adieu
A last fairwell to Stirling O

My comrades all now grieve for me
And one request I'll ask of ye
My faithful dog ye'll keep for me
When I am far from Stirling O

No more I'll wander through the glen
Or rob the roost of the pheasant hen
Nor chase the rabbit to its den
When I am far from Stirling O

Now fare you well my Jeannie dear
I hope you'll find another dear
And shed ye no a bitter tear
When I am far from Stirling O

So fare you well for I am bound
For twenty years to Van Diemen's Land
Think of me and what I've done
When I am far from Stirling O




The following notes are from the liner note for this song by Edgar Waters from Gary Shearston's CD re-release of earlier recordings Here and There: Now and Then:

One great Scots poet, Robert Burns, collected Scots folk songs, published them (often after considerable rewriting) and wrote songs of his own that were more or less in folk song style. Dozens of lesser poets also wrote songs more or less in the style of Scots folk song, and some of them actually passed into oral tradition. This seems to be such a song. In the 1950s the poet John Manifold gathered around him in Brisbane a group of people who were interested in performing folk music and songs. One of them was a Scots migrant. Nan Shanko. This is a song she carried with her from her native land.




The tune used here is from Mark Gregory's Australian Folk Songs site, where it is published with the following note:

Stirling O, Collected by Stan Arthur from Bob Gallagher, Brisbane 1958. Edgar Waters in his notes to the song in Tradition (April 1967) writes: "The number of convicts transported from Scotland to Australia was relatively small, but there are a good many Scottish songs about transportation. The present song seems to be still fairly common in oral tradition in Scotland. In recent years it has been recorded several times from oral tradition in Australia, but so far as I know always from Scottish migrants".

Kelly Was Their Captain

Unknown




Come all you wild colonial boys, and attention to me pay,
For in my song I will unfold the truth without delay.
'Twas of a famous outlawed band that roamed this country round,
Ned Kelly was their captain and no better could be found.

But the Governor of Victoria was an enemy of this man,
And a warrant he likewise put out to take his brother Dan.
But alas, one day, some troopers came, young Dan to apprehend,
And he like a tiger stood at bay, his mother to defend.

Five hundred pounds reward was made for Ned, wherever he was found,
And from place to place was hunted as if he was a hound.
Now driven to desperation to the bush brave Ned did take,
With Dan, Steve Hart and brave Joe Byrne, all for his mother's sake.

And although they deemed them outlaws, brave men they proved to be,
And vengeance ranked in every breast for Kelly's misery.
They burned his mother's vine-clad hut, which caused his heart to yearn,
And angered his companions, Dan, Steve Hart and brave Joe Byrne.

One day as Ned and his comrades in ambush were concealed,
They spied three mounted troopers and their presence did reveal.
They called to them, 'Surrender!' These words to them he said -
'Resist a man amongst you and I'll surely shoot you dead.'

Now Kennedy, Scanlon and Lonergan, in death were lying low,
When Ned amongst them recognised his old and viscious foe;
Then thoughts came of his mother with a baby at her breast,
And it filled his heart with anger, and the country knows the rest.

It was at the Wombat Ranges where Ned Kelly made his haunt,
And all those Victorian troopers at that name would surely daunt;
For months they lay in ambush until finally were betrayed,
By traitor Aaron Sherritt, and his life the treachery paid.

It was at the Glenrowan station where the conflict raged severe,
When more than fifty policemen at the scene then did appear.
No credit to their bravery, no credit to their name,
Ned Kelly terrified them all and put their blood to shame.



Bushwacker Broadside #12 from the Bush Music Club's publication, Six Authentic Songs from The Kelly Country. Collected by Alan Scott from Bill Shawcross of Lithgow.

Here are Gary Shearston's notes to his release of this song on his 1964 album, Folk Songs and Ballads of Australia:


KELLY WAS THEIR CAPTAIN: A song about Australia's best-known bushranger and his well-organised gang whose daring raids baffled the police and governments of New South Wales and Victoria for more than 18 months in the late 1800s. It is but one of dozens of poems and songs about the Kelly gang that have circulated throughout Australia for over 80 years. At the time of their origin many were declared "treason songs" and the authorities made efforts to suppress them. "Kelly was their Captain" is one of "Six Authentic Songs from the Kelly Country" collected and edited by John Meredith and published by the Sydney Bush Music Club in 1955. In summing up the legend of Ned Kelly author Clive Turnbull has written: "When a nation has bestowed upon a man the highest tribute in its power to give, in the phrase 'game as Ned Kelly', what remains to be said?"

The Death of Ben Hall

Traditional




Come all Australia's son to me, a hero has been slain
Murdered by cowards in his sleep along the Lachlan Plain

So do not stay your manly grief, but let the tear drops fall
For all Australia mourns today the death of brave Ben Hall

He never robbed a needy man as all his records show
But staunch and loyal to his mates and manly to the foe

No mark of Cain was on his brow, no widow's curse did fall
Only the robbing rich man feared the coming of Ben Hall

For ever since the good old days of Turpin and Duval
The poor men's friends were Outlaws then, and so was brave Ben Hall

But savagely they murdered him, those cowardly blue-coat imps
Led to where he lay asleep by sneaking Peelers Pimps

So do not stay your manly grief, but let the tear drops fall
For all Australia mourns today the fate of brave Ben Hall


Another classic about Ben Hall.

Recorded many times, this version from Gary Shearston's 1965 album, Traditional Australian Songs of Bolters, Bushrangers and Duffers.

Humping Old Bluey

Trad.



Humping old bluey; it is a stale game,
And that I can plainly see.
You're battling with poverty, hunger, sharp thorn,
Things are just going middling with me.

Now shearing's all over, and I'm such a swell ...
I'm riding a very fine hack.
If my friends were to see me - I'm not humping bluey,
I'm pushing a bit further back.

Humping your drum, and that after rum -
Wasting your young life away;
You're battling with poverty, hunger, sharp thorn,
Things are just going middling, I say.


This song was collected by the Sydney Bush Music Club from 70-year-old ex-shearer, Ron Mantan, who learnt the song when he was seven years old. First published in Singabout, Vol 3, #3,The Bush Music Club, Sydney, NSW, Australia. From Gary Shearston's Here and There, Now and Then album.