But immediately recovered when they found they were bushrangers.
And Johnny Gilbert said to them, "You need not be afraid.
We are only old companions whom bushrangers you have made."
And Johnny Gilbert said, said he, "We"ll never hurt a hair Of men who bravely recognise that we are just all there."
The New South Welshmen said at once, not making any fuss, That Johnny Gilbert, after all, was "Just but one of us."
So Johnny Gilbert took the town (including public houses), And treated all the "c.o.c.katoos" and shouted for their spouses.
And Miss O"Flanagan performed in manner quite gintailly Upon the grand planner for the bushranger O"Meally.
And every stranger pa.s.sing by they took, and when they got him They robbed him of his money and occasionally shot him.
And Johnny"s enigmatic feat admits of this solution, That bushranging in New South Wales is a favoured inst.i.tution.
So Johnny Gilbert ne"er allows an anxious thought to fetch him, For well he knows the Government don"t really want to ketch him.
And if such practices should be to New South Welshmen dear, With not the least demurring word ought we to interfere.
IMMIGRATION
[Mr. Jordan was sent to England by the Queensland Government in 1858, 1859, and 1860 to lecture on the advantages of immigration, and told the most extraordinary tales about the place.]
(Air: "Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.")
Now Jordan"s land of promise is the burden of my song.
Perhaps you"ve heard him lecture, and blow about it strong; To hear him talk you"d think it was a heaven upon earth, But listen and I"ll tell you now the plain unvarnished truth.
Here mutton, beef, and damper are all you"ll get to eat, From Monday morn till Sunday night, all through the blessed week.
And should the flour bag run short, then mutton, beef, and tea Will be your lot, and whether or not, "twill have to do, you"ll see.
Here snakes and all vile reptiles crawl around you as you walk, But these you never hear about in Mr. Jordan"s talk; Mosquitoes, too, and sandflies, they will tease you all the night, And until you get quite colonised you"ll be a pretty sight.
Here are boundless plains where it seldom rains, and you"ll maybe die of thirst; But should you so dispose your bones, you"ll scarcely be the first, For there"s many a strong and stalwart man come out to make his pile, Who never leaves the fatal sh.o.r.e of this thrice accursed isle.
To sum it up in few short words, the place is only fit For those who were sent out here, for from this they cannot flit.
But any other men who come a living here to try, Will vegetate a little while and then lie down and die.
THE SQUATTER"S MAN
Come, all ye lads an" list to me, That"s left your homes an" crossed the sea, To try your fortune, bound or free, All in this golden land.
For twelve long months I had to pace, Humping my swag with a cadging face, Sleeping in the bush, like the sable race, As in my song you"ll understand.
Unto this country I did come, A regular out-and-out new chum.
I then abhorred the sight of rum- Teetotal was my plan.
But soon I learned to wet one eye- Misfortune oft-times made me sigh.
To raise fresh funds I was forced to fly, And be a squatter"s man.
Soon at a station I appeared.
I saw the squatter with his beard, And up to him I boldly steered, With my swag and billy-can.
I said, "Kind sir, I want a job!"
Said he, "Do you know how to sn.o.b Or can you break in a bucking cob?"
Whilst my figure he well did scan.
""Tis now I want a useful cove To stop at home and not to rove.
The scamps go about-a regular drove- I "spose you"re one of the clan?
But I"ll give ten-ten, sugar an" tea; Ten bob a week, if you"ll suit me, And very soon I hope you"ll be A handy squatter"s man.
"At daylight you must milk the cows, Make b.u.t.ter, cheese, an" feed the sows, Put on the kettle, the cook arouse, And clean the family shoes.
The stable an" sheep yard clean out, And always answer when we shout, With "Yes, ma"am," and "No, sir," mind your mouth; And my youngsters don"t abuse.
"You must fetch wood an" water, bake an" boil, Act as butcher when we kill; The corn an" taters you must hill, Keep the garden spick and span.
You must not scruple in the rain To take to market all the grain.
Be sure you come sober back again To be a squatter"s man."
He sent me to an old bark hut, Inhabited by a greyhound s.l.u.t, Who put her fangs through my poor fut, And, snarling, off she ran.
So once more I"m looking for a job, Without a copper in my fob.
With Ben Hall or Gardiner I"d rather rob, Than be a squatter"s man.
"Do you know how to sn.o.b?"-A sn.o.b in English slang is a bootmaker, so the squatter wanted his man to do a bit of boot-repairing.
"I"ll give ten, ten, sugar and tea."-The "ten, ten" refers to the amount-ten pounds weight-of flour and meat that made up the weekly ration on the stations.
THE STRINGY-BARK c.o.c.kATOO
I"m a broken-hearted miner, who loves his cup to drain, Which often times has caused me to lie in frost and rain.
Roaming about the country, looking for some work to do, I got a job of reaping off a stringy-bark c.o.c.katoo.
Chorus
Oh, the stringy-bark c.o.c.katoo, Oh, the stringy-bark c.o.c.katoo, I got a job of reaping off a stringy-bark c.o.c.katoo.
Ten bob an acre was his price-with promise of fairish board.
He said his crops were very light, "twas all he could afford.
He drove me out in a bullock dray, and his piggery met my view.
Oh, the pigs and geese were in the wheat of the stringy-bark c.o.c.katoo.
Chorus: Oh, the stringy-bark, &c.
The hut was made of the surface mud, the roof of a reedy thatch.
The doors and windows open flew without a bolt or latch.