ON THE ROAD TO GUNDAGAI

Oh, we started down from Roto when the sheds had all cut out.

We'd whips and whips of Rhino as we meant to push about, So we humped our blues serenely and made for Sydney town, With a three-spot cheque between us, as wanted knocking down.

Chorus

But we camped at Lazy Harry's, on the road to Gundagai The road to Gundagai! Not five miles from Gundagai!

Yes, we camped at Lazy Harry's, on the road to Gundagai.

Well, we struck the Murrumbidgee near the Yanko in a week, And pa.s.sed through old Narrandera and crossed the Burnet Creek.

And we never stopped at Wagga, for we'd Sydney in our eye.

But we camped at Lazy Harry's, on the road to Gundagai.

Chorus: But we camped, &c.

Oh, I've seen a lot of girls, my boys, and drunk a lot of beer, And I've met with some of both, chaps, as has left me mighty queer; But for beer to knock you sideways, and for girls to make you sigh, You must camp at Lazy Harry's, on the road to Gundagai.

Well, we chucked our blooming swags off, and we walked into the bar, And we called for rum-an'-raspb'ry and a shilling each cigar.

But the girl that served the pizen, she winked at Bill and I- And we camped at Lazy Harry's, not five miles from Gundagai.

In a week the spree was over and the cheque was all knocked down, So we shouldered our "Matildas," and we turned our backs on town, And the girls they stood a n.o.bbler as we sadly said "Good bye,"

And we tramped from Lazy Harry's, not five miles from Gundagai;

Chorus: And we tramped, &c.

"Humped our blues serenely."-To hump bluey is to carry one's swag, and the name bluey comes from the blue blankets.

To "Shoulder Matilda" is the same thing as to "hump bluey."

FLASH JACK FROM GUNDAGAI

I've sh.o.r.e at Burrabogie, and I've sh.o.r.e at Toganmain, I've sh.o.r.e at big Willandra and upon the old Coleraine, But before the shearin' was over I've wished myself back, again Shearin' for old Tom Patterson, on the One Tree Plain.

Chorus

All among the wool, boys, Keep your wide blades full, boys, I can do a respectable tally myself whenever I like to try, But they know me round the back blocks as Flash Jack from Gundagai.

I've sh.o.r.e at big Willandra and I've sh.o.r.e at Tilberoo, And once I drew my blades, my boys, upon the famed Barcoo, At Cowan Downs and Trida, as far as Moulamein, But I always was glad to get back again to the One Tree Plain.

Chorus: All among the wool, &c.

I've pinked 'em with the Wolseleys and I've rushed with B-bows, too, And shaved 'em in the grease, my boys, with the gra.s.s seed showing through.

But I never slummed my pen, my lads, whate'er it might contain, While shearin' for old Tom Patterson, on the One Tree Plain.

I've been whalin' up the Lachlan, and I've dossed on Cooper's Creek, And once I rung Cudjingie shed, and blued it in a week.

But when Gabriel blows his trumpet, lads, I'll catch the morning train, And I'll push for old Tom Patterson's, on the One Tree Plain.

"I've pinked 'em with the Wolseleys, and I've rushed with B-bows, too." - Wolseleys and B-bows are respectively machines and hand-shears, and "pinking" means that he had shorn the sheep so closely that the pink skin showed through.

"I rung Cudjingie shed and blued it in a week," i.e., he was the ringer or fastest shearer of the shed, and he dissipated the earnings in a single week's drunkenness.

"Whalin' up the Lachlan." - In the old days there was an army of "sundowners" or professional loafers who walked from station to station, ostensibly to look for work, but without any idea of accepting it. These nomads often followed up and down certain rivers, and would camp for days and fish for cod in the bends of the river. Hence whaling up the Lachlan.

ANOTHER FALL OF RAIN

(Air: "Little Low Log Cabin in the Lane.")

The weather had been sultry for a fortnight's time or more, And the shearers had been driving might and main, For some had got the century who'd ne'er got it before, And now all hands were wishing for the rain.

Chorus

For the boss is getting rusty and the ringer's caving in, For his bandaged wrist is aching with the pain, And the second man, I fear, will make it hot for him, Unless we have another fall of rain.

A few had taken quarters and were coiling in their bunks When we sh.o.r.e the six-tooth wethers from the plain.

And if the sheep get harder, then a few more men will funk, Unless we get another fall of rain.

But the sky is clouding over, and the thunder's muttering loud, And the clouds are driving eastward o'er the plain,

And I see the lightning flashing from the edge of yon black cloud, And I hear the gentle patter of the rain.

So, lads, put on your stoppers, and let us to the hut, Where we'll gather round and have a friendly game, While some are playing music and some play ante up, And some are gazing outwards at the rain.

But now the rain is over, let the pressers spin the screw, Let the teamsters back the waggons in again, And we'll block the cla.s.ser's table by the way we'll put them through, For everything is merry since the rain.

And the boss he won't be rusty when his sheep they all are shorn, And the wringer's wrist won't ache much with the pain Of pocketing his cheque for fifty pounds or more, And the second man will press him hard again.

"Another Fall of Rain" is a song that needs a little explanation. The strain of shearing is very severe on the wrists, and the ringer or fastest shearer is very apt to go in the wrists, especially at the beginning of a season. Hence the desire of the shearers for a fall of rain after a long stretch of hot weather.

BOLD JACK DONAHOO

In Dublin town I was brought up, in that city of great fame- My decent friends and parents, they will tell to you the same.

It was for the sake of five hundred pounds I was sent across the main, For seven long years, in New South Wales, to wear a convict's chain.

Chorus

Then come, my hearties, we'll roam the mountains high!

Together we will plunder, together we will die!