Ronald Ryan

Mark Cryle




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Ronald Ryan was the poor bastard son
of a drunken miner who died of black lung
That was the depression, he was born in 25
mother turning tricks just to keep the kids alive

That's a good start for a life of crime
he was no gangster, strictly small time
but a 13 year stretch, he'd do 5 for sure
a Friday 13th, November 64

CHORUS:
If there's a hard way to live
If there's an easy way to die
If he leadeth me
The quiet waters by
don't ask me for my tears
Or for whom the bells toll
He can't save my neck
Can he save my soul

Ronald was a schemer
Rising for a fall
With Peter Walker he went over that wall
One Pentridge warder lay dead as he fell
Who pulled that trigger
You probably can tell

3 weeks after the boys had flown the coop
Tipped off in Sydney, the cops made their swoop
In the dock he stood there
Sentence was read
Guilty of murder, hanged until dead

the judge and jury never thought he would swing
But the men in power had votes to win
give me law and order
the cry of the day
Ronald Ryan was the bastard who paid

While there's a gathering at the Coburg hotel
Ronald takes communion inside his cell
One nip of whisky before he goes
Candles and protests out on Sydney Road

They fit the shackles, then they fit the cap
They hit the lever, you plummet through the trap
the hangman's table, it's all worked out
Pray that the rope is strong and the beam is stout


Executed at 8 a.m. on 3 February 1967 in Pentridge gaol, Ronald Ryan was the last man to be judicially hanged in Australia. This song by Brisbane's Mark Cryle, was performed by Steve Cook and John Thompson at the Top Half Folk Club in Darwin on 2 June, 2011.

The photograph is of Ryan at the time of his arrest.

Doing Time

Traditional



It's a bitter day of sorrow
When you drink the cup of shame
You're branded with a number
And forced to give your name
You put on them dirty garments
As the outcome of your crime
'Tis a bitter day of sorrow boy
When you're doing time

At night you are surrounded
By four great white-washed walls
You will hear the hours chiming
As the warder makes his calls
Or maybe you are dreaming
Of the one you love so well
When suddenly you're wakened
By the ringing of the bell

You roll your nap in silence
As you listen to the chime
'Tis a bitter day of sorrow boy
When you're doing time
This hill of life's a steep one
A long and dreary climb
But it's twice as long and steep my boy
When you're doing time


Another great song collected by Ron Edwards. From the Big Book of Australian Folk Songs. This recording with Steve Cook on guitar.

The photograph accompanying this post is of a Chinese prisoner, named Gee Dee.

This from the Public Record Office Victoria site:
The first photographic evidence of Chinese prisoners in the prison registers appears in 1863. Gee Dee was sentenced in 1860 to two years imprisonment for robbing a store. In October 1863, at 40 years of age, he was convicted of murder for the brutal stabbing of William Humffries in his Bright store. It was then that a photograph was placed on his record.

Gee Dee’s death sentence was commuted to hard labour for life, with the first three years in irons. He was released after 21 years, aged 61, was paid £5.9.11 and given a ‘suit of clothes’.

Justice On The Mines

Another anonymous gem from the Big Book Of Australian Folk Songs.




The day it was wet and the court it had met
And His Worship was lively and free
The courthouse a shanty, and Constable Lanty
Had the prisoner chained to a tree

"What's the case?" asked His Worship, as backward he leant
While his pipe he was comfortably lighting
Is it murder, or robbing with dire intent?
"No, Your Worship. This fella's been fighting"

"Fighting, indeed, to make men's noses bleed.
This indeed is a trifle too frisky
Lanty just go to the pub down below,
And bring me a good nip of whisky"

The constable went on his mission intent
And came back, to His Worship's great joy
But his hand it came down as he said with a frown
"You've watered it, Lanty, my boy"

"I can do that myself and the whisky itself
Is not my old tap, you know well
You may think that I'm tight, but I'll prove I'm all right
As this verdict will presently tell."

"You see the mail-coach has just come into town
Take the prisoner and into it bang him
From the place where he stands. Mind, obey my commands.
From the coach take him and hang him!"

"But, Your Worship! The case is assault at the most
You really don't mean what you say
Consider the case in some other place
And the verdict, please give us next day"

"Don't know what I mean! Take that, you spalpeen"
Said the Court, as in fury it rose
His right hand at once grasped the constable's sconce
While his left struck him full on the nose

A scuffle ensued twixt the trap and the beak
The diggers came round them delighted
They'd have seen the thing through if it lasted a week
'Til the quarrel was properly righted

At length it was over, and thoroughly sober
His Worship, to put them a fright in
Set the prisoner free, who was chained to a tree
On paying two guineas for fighting.


Recorded with Steve Cook on guitar.