The Old Bush Songs Part 7

The pigs and geese were in the hut, the hen on the table flew, And she laid an egg in the old tin plate for the stringy-bark c.o.c.katoo.

Chorus: Oh, the stringy-bark, &c.

For breakfast we had pollard, boys, it tasted like cobbler's paste.

To help it down we had to eat brown bread with vinegar taste.

The tea was made of the native hops, which out on the ranges grew; 'Twas sweetened with honey bees and wax for the stringy-bark c.o.c.katoo.

Chorus: Oh, the stringy-bark, &c.

For dinner we had goanna hash, we thought it mighty hard; They wouldn't give us b.u.t.ter, so we forced down bread and lard.

Quondong duff, paddy-melon pie, and wallaby Irish stew We used to eat while reaping for the stringy-bark c.o.c.katoo.

Chorus: Oh, the stringy-bark, &c.

When we started to cut the rust and s.m.u.t was just beginning to shed, And all we had to sleep on was a dog and sheep-skin bed.

The bugs and fleas tormented me, they made me scratch and screw; I lost my rest while reaping for the stringy-bark c.o.c.katoo.

Chorus: Oh, the stringy-bark, &c.

At night when work was over I'd nurse the youngest child, And when I'd say a joking word, the mother would laugh and smile.

The old c.o.c.ky, he grew jealous, and he thumped me black and blue, And he drove me off without a rap-the stringy-bark c.o.c.katoo.

Chorus: Oh, the stringy-bark, &c.

[For note on this song, see Introduction.]

THE EUMERELLA Sh.o.r.e

There's a happy little valley on the Eumerella sh.o.r.e, Where I've lingered many happy hours away, On my little free selection I have acres by the score, Where I unyoke the bullocks from the dray.

Chorus

To my bullocks then I say No matter where you stray, You will never be impounded any more; For you're running, running, running on the duffer's piece of land, Free selected on the Eumerella sh.o.r.e.

When the moon has climbed the mountains and the stars are s.h.i.+ning bright, Then we saddle up our horses and away, And we yard the squatters' cattle in the darkness of the night, And we have the calves all branded by the day.

Chorus

Oh, my pretty little calf, At the squatter you may laugh, For he'll never be your owner any more; For you're running, running, running on the duffer's piece of land, Free selected on the Eumerella sh.o.r.e.

If we find a mob of horses when the paddock rails are down, Although before they're never known to stray, Oh, quickly will we drive them to some distant inland town, And sell them into slav'ry far away.

Chorus

To Jack Robertson we'll say You've been leading us astray, And we'll never go a-farming any more; For it's easier duffing cattle on the little piece of land Free selected on the Eumerella sh.o.r.e.

JIMMY SAGO, JACKAROO

(Air: "Wearing of the Green.")

If you want a situation, I'll just tell you the plan To get on to a station, I am just your very man.

Pack up the old portmanteau, and label it Paroo, With a name aristocratic-Jimmy Sago, Jackaroo.

When you get on to the station, of small things you'll make a fuss, And in speaking of the station, mind, it's we, and ours, and us.

Boast of your grand connections and your rich relations, too And your own great expectations, Jimmy Sago, Jackaroo.

They will send you out on horseback, the boundaries to ride But run down a marsupial and rob him of his hide, His scalp will fetch a s.h.i.+lling and his hide another two, Which will help to fill your pockets, Jimmy Sago, Jackaroo.

Yes, to fill your empty pockets, Jimmy Sago, Jackaroo.

When the boss wants information, on the men you'll do a sneak, And don a paper collar on your fifteen bob a week.

Then at the lamb-marking a boss they'll make of you.

Now that's the way to get on, Jimmy Sago, Jackaroo.

A squatter in the future I've no doubt you may be, But if the banks once get you, they'll put you up a tree.

To see you humping bluey, I know, would never do, 'Twould mean good-bye to our new chum, Jimmy Sago, Jackaroo.

Yes, good-bye to our new chum, Jimmy Sago, Jackaroo.

A "Jackaroo" is a young man who comes to a station to get experience. He occupies a position much like that of an apprentice on a s.h.i.+p, and has to work with the men though supposed to be above them in social status. Hence these sneers at the Jackaroo.

THE PLAINS OF RIVERINE

I have come to tell you of the glorious news you'll all be glad to bear, Of the pleasant alterations that are taking place this year.

So kindly pay attention, and I'll pa.s.s the whisper round, The squatters of their own free will this year will pay the pound.

For this is a year of great prosperity, that everybody knows, We'll take no top knots off this year, nor trim them to the toes, But a level cut for a level pound, and the rations thrown in free.

That's how the squatters say they'll keep their Sovereign's Jubilee.

And kind Providence once more has sent the sweet, refres.h.i.+ng rains.

The trefoil and the barley gra.s.s wave high upon the plains, The tanks all overflowing and the saltbush fresh and green, It's a pleasure for to ramble o'er the plains of Riverine.

Once more upon the rippling lake the wild swan flaps her wing.

Out in the lignum swamps once more frogs croak and crickets sing.

Once more the wild fowl, sporting midst the crab-holes, may be seen, For prosperity is hovering o'er the plains of Riverine.

Yes, 'twill be a year of full and plenty for those back-block pioneers, Though behind each scrub and saltbush you can spot the bunny's ears; And although the price for scalps is not so high as it has been, Yet the bunny snappers they will thrive on the plains of Riverine.

You should see the jolly teamsters how with joy their faces beam, As they talk about the crowfoot, carrots, crab-holes, and their team.

They tell you that this year they do intend to steer sixteen.