The Collection

SONGS ABOUT PIONEERING

© Warren Fahey

Jack Pobar sings ‘The Old Bullock Dray’, recorded by Warren Fahey, Toowoomba, 1973. NLA.

The following pioneering song The Old Bullock Dray, is typical of the period surrounding colonial pioneering and has been a firm bush favourite for a long time and has been collected on numerous occasions and all versions capturing the general excitement of ‘going up country’ to start a new life. Paterson provided some notes,

• A paddy-melon is a small and speedy marsupial, a sort of poor relation of the great kangaroo family.
• ‘Calling in at the Depot to get an offsider.’ – Female immigrants were housed at the Depot on arrival, and many found husbands within a few hours of their landing. The minstrel, therefore, proposes to call at the Depot to get himself a wife from among the immigrants.

• An offsider is a bullock-driver’s assistant – one who walks on the off-side of the team and flogs the bullocks on that side when occasion arises. The word afterwards came to mean an assistant of any kind.
• ‘Jack Robertson,’ – Sir John Robertson, as he afterwards became, was a well-known politician, who believed in Australians doing their best to populate their own country.
• ‘Budgery you’ – good fellow you.’

THE OLD BULLOCK DRAY

Oh! the shearing is all over,
And the wool is coming down,
And I mean to get a wife, boys,
When I go up to town.
Everything that has two legs
Represents itself in view,
From the little paddy-melon
To the bucking kangaroo.CHORUS
So it’s roll up your blankets,
And let’s make a push;
I’ll take you up the country,
And show you the bush.
I’ll be bound you won’t get
Such a chance another day,
So come and take possession
Of my old bullock dray.

Now I’ve stood up a good cheque,
I mean to buy a team,
And when I get a wife, boys,
I’ll be all-serene.
For, calling at the depot,
They say there’s no delay
To get an off-sider
For the old bullock dray.

Oh! we’ll live like fighting cocks;
For good living, I’m your man.
We’ll have leather jacks, johnny cakes,
And fritters in the pan;
Or, if you’d like some fish,
I’ll catch you some soon,
For we’ll bob for barramundies
Round the banks of a lagoon.

Oh! yes, of beef and damper
I take care we have enough,
And we’ll boil in the bucket
Such a whopper of a duff,
And our friends will dance
To the honour of the day.
To the music of the bells,
Around the old bullock dray.

Oh! we’ll live like fighting cocks;
For good living, I’m your man.
We’ll have leather jacks, johnny cakes,
And fritters in the pan;
Or, if you’d like some fish,
I’ll catch you some soon,
For we’ll bob for barramundies
Round the banks of a lagoon.

Oh! yes, of beef and damper
I take care we have enough,
And we’ll boil in the bucket
Such a whopper of a duff,
And our friends will dance
To the honour of the day.
To the music of the bells,
Around the old bullock dray.

Oh! we’ll have plenty girls,
We must mind that.
There’ll be flash little Maggie,
And buckjumping Pat
There’ll be Stringybark Joe,
And Green-hide Mike.
Yes, my Colonials, just
As many as you like.

Now we’ll stop all immigration,
We won’t need it any more;
We’ll be having young natives,
Twins by the score.
And I wonder what the devil
Jack Robertson would say
If he saw us promenading
Round the old bullock dray.

Oh! it’s time I had an answer,
If there’s one to be had,
I wouldn’t treat that steer
In the body half as had;
But he takes as much notice
Of me, upon my soul,
As that old blue stag
Off-side in the pole.

Oh! to tell a lot of lies,
You know, it is a sin,
But I’l go up country
And marry a black gin.
Oh! “Baal gammon white feller,”
This is what she’ll say,
“Budgery you
And your old bullock dray.”

Anonymous. From Paterson’s Old Bush Songs, 1905. Jack Pobar sang a version of this song to Warren Fahey, in 1973, adding enthusiastically that it ‘was all Australian and Australian all the way.’ The tune is related to Turkey in the Straw, known to nineteen-century Australians as ‘Old Zip Coon’, a popular minstrel tune first published in 1834.

As Australia approached the mid-1800s there were already some songs about pioneering that had entered the tradition. One has to realise that Australia is an extremely large country and social interaction between early settlers would have been infrequent and when they did meet it would have necessitated a social gathering that most probably included social entertainment. The idea of songs written about shared experience, especially pioneering, would have been popular, as would have songs that reminded them of the ‘old country’.

There were also many songs about colonial life in the would-be cities. Some ridiculed the authorities and others dealt with life in the new country. Very few offered thanks or praise but this is a traditional perspective common to all frontier cultures.

The folk hardly ever let the truth stand in the way of a good tale and this song is a whopper as it documents the trials ad tribulations of a new-chum settler. The poor devil cops the lot – bushrangers, the barren bush, drought, hostile Aborigines and financial disaster before hot-footing it back to Mother England. He claims he’d rather sell matches door-to-door than return to Australia! Paterson, in his notes says, ‘It is noticeable that in all the ballads of early days there is a sort of happy-go-lucky spirit which reflects the easy come, easy go style of the times.’

Warren Fahey sings ‘The Settler’s Lament’.

THE SETTLER’S LAMENT
Now all intent to emigrate,
Come listen to the doleful fate,
Which did befall me of late,
When I went to the wilds of Australia.
I sailed across the stormy main,
And often wished myself back again,
I really think I was quite insane
When I went to the bush of Australia.

Illawarra, Moneroo, Parramatta, Woolloomaloo (sic),
If you wouldn’t become a kangaroo,
Don’t go to the bush of Australia.

One never knows what does await,
For just as we entered Bass’s Strait,
We lost the half of our crew, and our mate,
As we sailed to the bush of Australia.
The vessel struck on a bank of sand,
And when we drifted to the land,
We soon were surrounded by a band
Of savages in Australia,

But I was so starved I look’d like a ghost,
I didn’t weigh more than four stone at most,
Thank heaven! I wasn’t fit for a roast,
For the cannibals in Australia.
So to Sydney town I travelled then,
The Governor gave me some convict men,
And I set off to live in a den
In the dismal bush of Australia.

And when I came to look at the land,
Which I got by his Excellency’s command,
I found it was nothing but burning sand,
Like all the rest of Australia.
But I bought a flock of sheep at last,
And thought that my troubles were passed,
But you may believe I stood aghast,
When they died of the rot in Australia.

My convicts were always drinking rum,
I often wished they were up a gum-
Tree – or that I had never come,
To the horrible bush of Australia.
The bushrangers my hut attacked,
And they were by my convicts back’d,
And my log hut was fairly sack’d
Of all I had got in Australia.

A thousand or two don’t go a long way,
When everyone robs you in open day,
And the bankers all fail and mizzle away
From the capital of Australia.
And it’s not very easy to keep your cash,
When once in twelvemonth your agent goes smash,
And bolts to New Zealand, or gets a whitewash;
It’s a way that they have in Australia.

So articles I signed at last,
And work’d as a man before the mast;
And back to England I came full fast,
And left the confounded Australia.
To sell a few matches from door to door,
Would certainly be a very great bore,
But I’ve made up my mind to do that before
I’ll go back to the bush of Australia.
Anonymous. Paterson included a version of this song in his revised edition of Old Bush Songs, 1924, under the title of THE BEAUTIFUL LAND OF AUSTRALIA and subsequently included in the Stewart and Keesing edition as THE SETTLER’S LAMENT. The version here was located in John Henderson’s Excursions and Adventures in New South Wales, Captain Henderson, of the 78 th Highlanders, had two volumes of his book published in 1854 and included this song implying that he composed it en route to Australia, adding that it was sung to the tune ‘King of the Cannibal Islands.’ It is more likely the work of Surgeon Goodwin who was in the Colony prior to Henderson.

Romance in the Bush

When we think of the bush, we usually think of gold, bushrangers, drovers, endless plains and sheep, sheep, sheep – however, rest assured, romance also played an essential role in our social history – and the songs provide us with a slice of life unusually evasive.

Approximately 25,000 women and young girls were transported to Australia. The majority were transported for thievery or petty crime and many were simply seen as ‘street undesirables’. Prisoners were usually assigned to settlers as dairy maids, kitchen hands and general labourers, depending on their particular skills, or sent to workhouses where they sewed, made pillows etc. or they were shipped to the Parramatta female prison better known as the ‘Female Factory’ or ‘Depot’, where, depending on the inmate’s behaviour, they were made available to settlers requiring a wife.

Most settlers could not afford to be too fussy, and there are some choice stories about the selection process. The following account from A Residence of Eleven Years in New Holland etc., Boston 1841, James F. O’Connell, is typically amusing.

The process of a factory courtship is worth describing. Let us suppose the suitor an old “stringybark”, such being the soubriquet in which inland settlers rejoice. He has no particular maid in view, but has obtained Bishop Marsden permission to visit the factory and seek a wife, and a letter to the matron certifying his intent. The girls are paraded in each room, and the visitor (sic) scans them as a Turk would Georgians in a slave market. The girls, all-agog for a husband, would show various faces upon the examination. Some, all sheepish smiles and blushes, would look as foolish as all young ladies are supposed to, when a third person happens in upon an interview at which the question has just been popped Others would avert their faces in a sort of indifference; as, although a refusal is seldom met by an applicant, still these seekers for help meets are not all of such an appearance as to tempt a woman halfway. A third set would most prudishly frown upon a proceeding that pays so little respect to the prescriptive rights of the ladies; while, as if purposely set in contrast to these fastidious ones, others would make attempts, not always successful, or with the best grace, to appear as amiable and pretty as possible, in spite of the Parramatta frock and petticoat of which they were evidently heartily tired.

It is a regular frolic and the girls break out into jokes about his personal appearance, particularly if he happens to have passed the meridian. The chance is, that his quizzical reception by the first class, and the confusion of faces hindering his choice, will send him to the second and a preconceived and natural prejudice against No. 2 will send him back to No. 1 again. Upon his return, all pretence to reserve is thrown aside. “Ha! Old boy, couldn’t you find a moll to suit? Is there never a blow’en in the lot good enough for an old stringy-bark settler like you?” Flash is pattered at him with all a woman’s volubility, and the old blowens who have been so often turned back to the factory for drunkenness or other faults that their case is past redemption commences quizzing the wife-hunter. “There, there’s a new chum, just come out!” pointing to some uninvitinglooking maiden; “she’s the girl for you!” “There! there!” by a dozen bidders, or, “You’d better take one of your age!” from some old toothless Jezebel.

The matron and monitresses wink at these irregularities as things of course, and impossible of prevention. The choice at length made, spite of all the discouragements thrown in his way, the settler is seldom obliged to apply to more than one, and after uttering the awkward “yes,” the bride elect flies round to her pals, bidding hasty adieus, and the bridegroom leads her out. “I’ll give you three months before you’re returned!” cries one, and “It’s a bargain you’ve got, old stringy-bark!” cries another. Hubbub and confusion mark the couple’s exit, and the bride’s character is immediately picked to pieces by the neglected as soon as her back is turned, and the appearance of her husband elect most scientifically blasted, after the usual manner of decrying sour grapes. The convict’s clothes are returned to her, and, dressed again like a free woman, she leaves with her suitor of an hour to the church. The government gives her a “ticket of exemption” as a dower, and she steps into her husband’s carriage to go to his farm.’ With the discovery of gold in the eighteen fifties many thousands of single men arrived in Australia and immediately went ‘bush’ to seek their fortune. Some men took their families, although the goldfields ‘tent cities’ were not much of a place for a woman. Single females were few and far between and usually worked in kitchens or as prostitutes.

Women were most noticeably missed on the goldfields, and the appearance of visiting female entertainers like the famed ‘femme-fatale’ Lola Montez, created immense interest. Unsurprisingly, many of the songs popular at the time were sentimental ballads telling of home and mother. Minstrel shows, usually in ‘black face’ was also popular and introduced many American songs to our shores as well as continuing the sentimental themes. The banjo, mandolin, bones and spoons became popular in bush music because of these travelling shows.

As the colonies grew sturdy bush women held the households together. They prepared food, tended farms, raised and educated children, sewed, knitted and generally kept the house and family together through thick and thin. If the typical Australian male was seen as gawky and shy she was seen as dependable, strong and not particularly sexual. This may have simply been a case of poor public image since the majority of women in public accounts were married ‘solid types’. Society viewed single women as innocent and best kept in the background until married.

Later images of bashful men and coy women conjure up scenes from a Dad and Dave story – the men around the keg at one end of the room, and the women making sandwiches at the other end. The role of alcohol in a male-dominated society is also a subject carried in many songs where sex can only be considered when the suitor is intoxicated. Other songs, usually the older ballads like ‘Ginny on the Moor’ offer a deeper, tender approach but these seem few and far between.

In reality the life of many bush women must have been extremely hard. Sometimes husbands, by necessity, were away from the homestead for days, often weeks, as they checked boundary fences, chased missing stock, nursed new born calves, hunted dingoes or spent a season shearing or droving. Henry Lawson spoke for many in his eloquent story of ‘The Drover’s Wife’.

There was also a bawdy aspect of Australian romance. This, of course, reflected our rough and tumble pioneering life. It certainly shows itself in earlier songs like ‘The Thrashing Machine’ and ‘Green Leaves Upon the Green’ where rural sexual innuendo is intrinsic to the story. These are all good fun and part of a very long tradition of such songs.

AUSTRALIA AND ITS TRADITIONAL MUSIC – a brief overview

COLONIAL MUSIC

The Old Bark Hut

(above: Mr Jacob Lollbach at 100 years.)

Anonymous. Collected from Mr Jacob Lollbach MBE, Grafton, by Warren Fahey in 1973. Mr Lollbach was a grand 102 when he recorded this full text of the song he had been singing for over eighty years. Mr Lollbach had learnt the song from a bullock driver, Jack Horner, who sang it to the tune of ‘The Wearing Of The Green’. Also included in Paterson’s Old Bush Songs, 1905 edition. In Australian Bush Songs and Ballads, Will Lawson attributed this song to William Perrie adding “These verses were written in the shepherding days – when fences were few and far between – at Dungog, NSW. William Perrie was a veterinary surgeon in practice there.” Verses five, six and seven are from this version.

Warren Fahey

THE BUSH SONG

Refer to my ‘articles’ section on the site and also Popular Entertainment in the Folklore of Sydney section, which includes background information and other examples of this tradition.

The next period of folk song saw the emergence of what has become known as the ‘bush song’. In truth it had been around for a few years but in the period of pastoral growth, especially sheep and cattle breeding, this type of song became the dominant song form.

In many ways the bush song is the best example of Australian traditional music at work in as much it came to popularity at a time that Australia was defining its own identity. The description ‘bush song’ seems to fit more comfortably than ‘folk song’ or even the more staunch ‘traditional song’ and there are several reasons for this, not the least that they are products of their timeframe. As this popularity was the second half of the nineteenth century it coincided in dramatic changes in popular entertainment worldwide

“Necessity is the mother of invention” and, by all accounts, necessity led to all types of makeshift dwellings for the average bushman. Newspapers became wallpaper, empty jam tins became saucepans, shovels served as an impromptu frying pan, hats were used to strain drinking water, sugar bags became blankets and memories became firm friends. The story of Bob the Swagman and his trials and tribulations, not to mention his determination and optimism, has been one of the most endearing bush songs of all.

OLD BARK HUT

My name is Bob the swagman, before you all I stand,
And I’ve had many ups and downs whilst travelling through the land,
I once was well to do, my boys, but now I’m all stumped up,
And I’m forced to go on rations, in on old bark hut.

In an old bark hut, in an old bark hut,
I’m forced to go on rations in an old bark hut.

Ten pounds of flour, ten pounds of meat, some sugar and some tea,
That’s all they give a hungry man, until the seventh day,
And if you’re not mighty careful, you’ll go with a hungry gut,
And that’s one of the great misfortunes, in an old bark hut.

The bucket you boil your beef in has to carry water too,
They’d say you’re getting mighty flash, if you should ask for two,
I’ve a billy can and a pint pot and a broken handle cup,
And they all adorn the table of my old bark hut.

The table is not a bit of wood, as many you have seen
For if I had one half as good I’d think myself serene.
It’s only an old sheet of bark; God knows when it was cut,
It was blown from off the rafters of that old bark hut.

And of furniture there’s no such thing, ’twas never in the place,
Except the stool I sit upon – and that’s an old gin-case,
It does one as a safe as well – but you must keep it shut,
Or the flies would make it canter round the old bark hut.

.

If you should leave it open, and the flies should find your meat,
They will not leave a single piece that’s fit for man to eat;
But you mustn’t curse nor grumble, as the maggots out you cut –
What’s out of sight is out of mind, in an old bark hut.

In the summer time, when the weather’s warm, this hut is nice and cool,
The breezes blowing through the cracks are balmy, as a rule,
You may leave the old door open, boys, but f you leave it shut,
There’s no fear of suffocation in an old bark hut.

In winter time – preserve us all – to live in there’s a treat,
Especially when it’s raining hard, and blowing wind and sleet.
The rain comes down the chimney, and your meat is black with soot –
There’s a substitute for pepper in an old bark hut.

I’ve seen the rain come in this hut, just like a perfect flood,
Especially through that great big hole where once the table stood;
There’s not a blessed spot, me boys, where you could lay your nut,
But the rain is sure to find you in the old bark hut.

So beside the fire I make my bed, and there I lay me down,
And think myself as happy as the king that wears a crown.
But as you’re dozing off to sleep a flea will wake you, but,
‘Tis useless cursing fleas and such in an old bark hut.

Such packs of fleas you never saw, they are so plump and fat,
If you should make a grab at one, he’ll spit just like a cat,
Last night they found my pack of cards, and were fighting for the cut,
And I thought the devil had me in the old bark hut.

And now, my boys, I’ve sung my song and that as well as I could,
And I hope the ladies present will not think my language rude,
And all you younger people, in the days when you grow up,
Just remember Bob the swagman, in his old bark hut.

.

For a detailed study of the bush song refer to my book (co-authored with Graham Seal) The Old Bush Songs, published Sydney July 2005 ABC Books.

One of Henry Lawson’s poems was titled Freedom of the Wallaby – it’s a biting anthem in support of the shearer’s union when the strike of 1891 was revving up. It landed Henry in hot water when a Queensland politician wanted to charge him with sedition.

FEMALE EMIGRANTS

CAROLINE CHISHOLM

Emigration and Transportation, 1848
If Her Majesty’s Government be really desirous of seeing a well conducted community spring up in these Colonies, the social wants of the people must be considered- If the paternal Government wishes to entitle itself to that honoured appellation, ii must look to the materials it may send as a nucleus tor the formation of a good and great people. For all the clergy you can despatch, ail the schoolmasters you can appoint, all the churches you can build, and all the books you can export, will never do much good without what a gentleman in [Australia] very appropriately called ‘God’s police’ógood and virtuous women.

CAROLINE CHISHOLM

The Emigrant’s Guide to Australia, 1854
Tents. – All letters from the colony speak of these being an indispensable article of an emigrant’s outfit. Boxes must be made small, that a man may be able to carry them; but a barrel is a better packing-case, as then a man may roll it.

Testimonials.– It is found of great service, as to the position of emigrants in the colony. To take out with them not only their registrations of birth and marriage-certificates, but testimonials of character from their spiritual pastors, magistrates, corporation-officers, physicians, gentry, or known respectable persons in business.

Extras .- Those who have money to spare may take with them a few pounds of patent flour, a pound of arrowroot, some rice, tea, and sugar, and a jar of pickles Those who have children should take preserved broths and milk.

WILLIAM COBBETT

The Emigrant’s Guide 1829
A man ought to consider, that women, and especially women with families, have been long bound to their homes; to their neighbour hood; to their small circles; most frequently much in the company of their mothers, sisters, and other relations; and that, to tear themselves from all these, and to be placed amongst strangers, and that, too, with the probability, and almost the certainty, of never seeing their circle of relations and friends again; and to begin their departure on the wide ocean, the dangers of which are proverbial, and perfectly terrific to female minds, for a woman to do all this, without the greatest reluctance, is too much for any reasonable and just man to expect; yet, if the necessity arise, it is still his duty towards his children, and even towards the wife herself, to perse- were in the effecting of his object . – –

MRS GEORGE DARBY GRIFFITH

A Journey Across the Desert, 1845
The heat of the cabins is not to be described; ours is suffocating. We have two stern windows, but they are of little use, as, the wind being constantly ahead of us, we can get no (fresh air], and where there ought to he a side-porthole is a large looking glass, which only reflects one’s dirt and discomfort. But I could endure all this, were it not for the swarm of cockroaches that infest us; they almost drive me out of my senses. The other day sixty were killed in our own cabin, and we might have killed as many more; they are very large, about two inches and a half long, and run about your pillows and sheets in a most disgusting manner. In order to guard myself against them, I am obliged to sleep with a great muslin veil over my face, which adds not a little to the heat and suffocation. Rats are very numerous. One night Mr Welby Jackson, one of the passengers, was asleep on the cuddy table, and was woken up by a huge monster running down one of the punkah ropes into his shirt, and it was a long lime before he could dispossess himself of his unwelcome visitor. The captain keep’s a very good table, and has an excellent cook.

VERE FOSTER

Work and Wages; or, the Penny Emigrant’s Guide 1855
Choose a ship that is well ventilatedóthat is to say, go in a ship That has one sleeping deck for passengers rather than two; be Careful that you cannot only walk upright on this deck, but that it is at least seven feet from the deck above – – . with a proper current of air below. See that the ship has high bulwarks (wooden walls), at least six feel high, so as to prevent passengers from being drenched every time they come on deck, if you have a family choose a ship, if possible, which has separate water closets for males and females , and take with you some chloride of lime got from a chemist, and throw a little into the closet now and then, to stop bad smells.

The weak among my readers – and I would add the very poor but they cannot afford to choose – should be careful, if possible, to select a ship in which they are not required to cook for themselves. To the richer passengers who can bribe the cooks with half a crown now and then, to pretty women who can coax them with their smiles, or to strong men who can elbow their way with their broad shoulders, such advice is not necessary, as they can have access to the crowded cookhouse any time, and any number of times daily; but the others often have to wait tor hours in the wet, or even all day, to cook a single meal..,

AN AUSTRALIAN JOURNALIST

The Emigrant in Australia, 1853
For the wife (bound for ‘the diggings”): Three cotton dresses, one pair Stays, four petticoats, sixteen chemises, two flannel petticoats, twelve pairs cotton stockings, four pair-, black worsted ditto, six night dresses and caps. six pocket handkerchiefs, four handkerchiefs for the neck, six caps, two bonnets, cloak and shawl, one pair boors, two pair shoes, and eight towels . . . The family will also require a mattress and bolster, one pair blankets, one coverlet, six pairs cotton sheets, two or three tablecloths, six pounds yellow soap, three pounds of marine soap, metal wash-hand basin, knives and forks, one quart tin hook pot, one coffee pot, comb and brush, besides a supply of string, sewing materials, tape, buttons, &c .. .

It will always be desirable that the wife makes as many of her clothes as possible on board ship, as the occupation serves to pass many an otherwise idle, heavy hour.

Bulky furniture would be a costly incumbrance to anyone proceeding beyond the immediate neighbourhood of the shore. A portable iron bedstead, however, is worth taking. (And a tent.)

ISABELLA HERCUS

Journal From Gravesend to Sydney, 1853
I must now give you some description of our hut. In the first place it has two rooms that occupy the space of your washhouse. Of these rooms have a window, only think three panes across and two high. The bedroom you must understand has been in the wars for three squares out of the six have got board in them instead of glass which is not quite so transparent. The sitting room has two boarded up which of course outside in particular gives the place a very respectable appearance – Wood being rather a scarce article here they cannot afford to board the rooms. Our bedroom has one of Nature’s own making the mother earth.

Now I hope you will not laugh for as Thomas used to say, you might be took to yourself, but of all the bedsteads you ever saw I warrant you will never come across one to match ours. It is one of our own contriving and erecting and a four post too. Thomas went out and dug up four old clumsy stakes belonging to a fence. He brought them home; he then dug four great holes in the bedroom. We put a post in each and then rammed the dirt in round them. The next thing to be thought of was the side and foot pieces. We went and fetched some more of the poor old fence and nailed them to the posts but we had to hunt for all our nails before we could do that even. We then nailed a rough piece of board across for the head-board.

The next consideration was how to contrive a bottom. So after a good deal of scheming Thomas at last hit upon a plan, He nailed three bars of wood across and then fetched a large sheet of bark and laid [it] upon them which answers admirably and we sleep as sound upon a mattress on a sheet of bark as thousands do upon beds of down. In our sitting room we have a few odd pieces of board laid down of all sizes und shapes. Our fire we have upon a hearth. The walls of our hut are slabs of wood just as they have been split down in the rough, not even a splinter planed off them.

We can see daylight through every one. They have had mud plastered in between them but a great deal of it has dropped out so you see our rooms are very airy. The roof and chimney are made of bark pub together in a sort of form – a patch here and a patch there as if the wind had blown them together. Our door, for we have only one, opens with a bobbin. We have no water closet – that is a luxury they think folks can do without. Our water we have to fetch half a mile from the river.

ISABELLA HERCUS

Journal from Gravesend to Sydney 1853
A gentleman returned (to the ship) this evening bringing us information worth receiving. He had met a person in the city who enquired of him if we had a miller on board among our passengers, as he knew a party very much in want of one as they were scarce folks in Sydney. He told him he believed there was one and only one on board- He said he should feel very much obliged if he would send him. His employer would give him one hundred and five pounds a year, with rations sufficient for himself and wife and likewise a house to live in. The news seemed really too good to be true. I could hardly bring my mind to believe it. Fortune, actually swimming out of Sydney to meet us. I could not sleep a wink all night for thinking. It appeared like a dream, I was unable to interpret much less believe. Thursday October 27th a lovely day. Thomas started first thing this morning in quest of his new situation. I spent a very anxious day as to the upshot of this unlooked for affair.

A gentleman returned about tea time with a message from Thomas to say that he could not return until the following morning as he had go to Parramatta, sixteen miles out of Sydney to be engaged and would not be able to get any conveyance back that evening.

Friday, October z8th a most exquisite day, my anxiety seems increased twofold. This morning Thomas returned about six in morning bringing intelligence that he was engaged at the rate of one hundred and four pounds a year with board, lodging and firing found us. The place intended for our future home is two hundred miles from Sydney named Yass. a station half way to the Ovens diggings. We are to leave Sydney tomorrow by the Mai! Coach which starts at five in the morning, the fare is seven guineas each without luggage. We leave that behind to be sent by the bullock drays after us, which takes a month and sometimes three to reach their destination. Mr Hardy, for that is our employer’s name, has agreed to pay our expenses by the mail, the luggage we have to pay for ourselves. I feel very timid at the thoughts of going up the country such a distance particularly there having been a most brutal murder just committed there which you have doubtless heard of in the papers. The man now lies in Goulburn Jail awaiting his trial. However, there was no alternative so (I) made up my mind to it in the best way I could.

ELLEN CLACY

A Lady’s Visit to the Gold Diggings, 1853
Night at the diggings is the characteristic time’ murder here -murder thereórevolvers crackingóblunderbusses bombing- rifles going offóbails whistling – one’ man groaning with a broken legóanother shouting because he couldn’t find the way to his hole and a third equally vociferous because he has tumbled into one – this man swearingóanother praying ñ a party of bacchanals chanting various ditties to different time and tune, or rather minus both. Here is one man grumbling because he has brought his wife with him, another ditto because he has left his behind, or sold her for an ounce of gold or a bottle of rum. Donny-brook Fair is not to be compared to an evening at Bendigo – -.

In some tents the soft influence of our sex is pleasingly apparent: the tins are as bright as silver, there are sheets as well as blankets on the beds, and perhaps a clean counterpane, with the addition of a dry sack or piece of carpet on the ground; whilst the pet cockatoo, chained to a perch, makes noise enough to keep the ‘missus’ from feeling lonely when the good man is at work- Sometimes a wife is at first rather a nuisance; women gel scared and frightened, then cross, and commence a ‘blow up’ with their husbands; but all their railing generally ends in their quietly settling down to this rough and primitive style of living, if not without a murmur, at least to all appearance with the determination to laugh and bear it. And although rough in their manners, and not over select in their address, the digger seldom wilfully injures a woman.

The stores at the diggings are large tents generally square or oblong and everything required by a digger can be obtained for money, from sugar-candy to potted anchovies, from East India pickles to Bass’s pale ale; from ankle jack boots to a pair of stays; from a baby’s cap to a cradle; and even apparatus for mining, from a pick to a needle. But the confusion ñ the din – the medleyówhat a scene for a shop walker! Here lies a pair of herrings dripping into a bag of sugar, or a box of raisins; there a gay-looking bundle of ribbons beneath two tumblers, and a half- finished bottle of ale. Cheese and butter, bread and yellow soap, pork and currants, saddles and frocks, wide-awakes and blue serge shirts, green veils and shovels, bath linen and tallow candles, are all heaped indiscriminately together, added to which, there are children bawling, men swearing, store-keeper sulky, and last, not least, women’s tongues going nineteen to the dozen.

ELLEN CLACY

A Lady’s Visit to the Gold Diggings. 1853
To those of my own sex who desire to emigrate to Australia, I say do so by all means, if you can go under suitable protection, possess good health, are not fastidious or ‘fine ladylike’, can milk cows, churn butter, cook a good damper, and mix a pudding. The worst risk you run is that of getting married, and finding yourself treated with twenty times the respect and consideration you may meet with in England. Here (as far as number goes) women beat the ‘lords of creation,’ in Australia it is the reverse, and there we may be pretty sure of having our own way.

SIDNEY’S EMIGRANT’S JOURNAL , 1848

There is an unlimited demand for wives of all ranks, from the shepherd to the gentleman squatter, with his 1,000 head of cattle, and 20,000 sheep. The Colonists, as a body, whether emigrants or native born, make good husbands, kind, indulgent, and generous. They are all rather rough in their language to each other, but no one ever heard of a Bushman beating his wife. In the towns there is as much gaiety as in England. Rather more.

The Bush huts have not generally been very comfortable: but there is no reason why they should not be as well built and furnished as in English farm houses. Young widows and orphans of small means will find themselves in reality much safer in an Australian town than in any of the great towns of Europe, better protected, and with better prospects. Of course some caution is necessary before accepting the first offers made, but there is very little difficulty in finding out an Australian settler’s character. There are obvious advantages in two or more ladies joining to make a party for the sea-voyage, besides reasons of economy. There can be no more impropriety in going to Australia than to India for the same purpose.

Adelaide is at present the best port for young ladies, as there is a committee of ladies there who receive and protect female emigrants.

For Governesses, there is a moderate demand. We should only recommend those to think of emigration who are not comfortable here. Every lady thinking of emigrating should know how to bake, boil, roast, wash, and iron, and then although she may not have to do these things, she will feel independent.

For Domestic and Farm-servants the demand is unlimited, and will so continue for many years, as a good sober cook, housemaid or nurse, is worth any wages, and may always have a house of her own within twelve months. A clever maid-servant is sure to better her position by emigrating to Australia, and will frequently save part of the passage-money by attending on one of the lady passengers.

Never stand out for high wages at first. Get a house over your head, and then change if you can for the better.

Country girls, Irish and others, not able to become domestic servants, would make excellent shepherdesses. All dry flocks, that is, not breeding ewes, will be- under the charge of women, when- ever an equality of sexes has been produced by copious female emigration.

Jack Pobar sings ‘The Old Bullock Dray’. Jack loved Australian stories, verse and song and had learnt this pioneering song in the 1930s, probably from a copy of A. B. Paterson’s ‘Old Bush Songs’, which has a similar text (and presumably the earliest). Recorded by Warren Fahey, Toowoomba, 1973.

Here is a first verse version of the same song recorded by John Meredith in the 1950s from Collie Burke. As with many folk songs the locality has been changed to suit the needs of the singer.

Published in Maitland Mercury and Hunter River:

R.H.S. 1933:

The first printer in Australia was a convict by the name of Hughes however since he only printed handbills the first official printer was George Howe Ed of the Sydney Gazette, which appeared 1803

Macquarie Barracks

During the early rein of Macquarie there were no barracks for the convicts and most slept in private dwellings and public buildings ñ the evenings became an opportunity for plunder and disorder. The Macquarie street barracks were erected in 1819 and described by lord Bathurst and Commissioner Bigge as ‘too comfortable, forming a sort of luxury clubhouse’. On June 4, 1819, 589 convicts dined there for the first time, and enjoyed a ‘most excellent dinner, plum pudding and an allowance of punch being allowed them’.

Land, Land Land

(Tune: Land, Land, Land)
or…

Warren Fahey & The Larrikins sing ‘Sixteen Miles From Home’. Warren Fahey: Vocals. Marcus Holden: Cittern, Dobro. Garry Steel: Accordion. Clare O’Meara: Fiddle.

Sixteen Thousand Miles From Home.

There was a general colonial belief that the distance from London to Sydney was 16,000 miles. However, if the songs are to believed the distance from heart and home was much further. This particular gold digger’s story describes the typically inappropriately dressed new chum (some of them arrived outback complete with top hat and tails), and his complaints of working under the blazing southern sun, chipping rocks to the dissatisfaction of the overseer. Our new chum reckons he’d be better off joining the army and risk getting blown to pieces than keep digging on the goldfields. I have been singing this ‘hooral dooral, tiddy-falooral’ song for nearly forty years and it still makes me smile. I recorded it for my first release on the Larrikin label, Man of the Earth, in 1973. The song was collected by John Meredith, in 1959, from Jack Wright, Coogee, and published in Singabout (1956-67), the magazine of the Bush Music Club, Sydney. He also collected a second version from Edwin Goodwin a year later. Both recordings appear below.

Edwin Goodwin/Meredith. National Library ORAL TRC4/7B

Jack Wright/Meredith. National Library ORAL TRC 4/29B

The Australian Emigrant’s Song

BY ‘OLD BOOMERANG’ (J Houlding)
Q784.3/4A1
Published London 1867 Words and music
Typical art song and sheet notes that the song was published in Colonial Capers

First line: When the merry little spring birds

Make the woods and vales resound.

Hand-Written Diary of Augustus Cutlack

‘Four Years In Queensland & New South Wales’ 1875
After all that could be seen at night I made my way back to my fire in the old kitchen and taking my flageolet out of my pack I begun to make the old house ring with such tunes as ‘Auld Robin Gray’ Down to the Rat catcher’s Daughter, not forgetting Home Sweet Home. When I had finished I laid down on my blankets in front of the fire and began to think of the old folks at home, not forgetting the youngest of the young ones, after wondering if they thought of me, and feeling sleepy, prepared myself for bed and finally dropped off and dreamt of home.

EMIGRANTS PENNY MAGAZINE

1850 Vol1. Printed in Charring Cross. The monthly magazine appears to be a Christian Guide to Emigration and includes religious-influenced stories, puzzles and poor songs.

“The most desired emigrants are young married couples, without children, or with only one or two; and elder parents with grown families, the youngest child not under 12 or 14.

The following list contains the smallest quantity of clothing to be taken:

The magazine contains various games and discusses the importance of puzzles and word games in passing the endless days of sail.

GATHERINGS FROM THE GUMTREES

Michael Kilgour Beveridge
1863 Melbourne
Songster size

Warren Fahey: Vocals, Jaw Harp sings ‘Stir The Wallaby Stew’ with Marcus Holden: Tenor Guitar, Dobro. Garry Steel: Accordion, Bass.

Stir The Wallaby Stew.

In 2005 ABC Books published my book, Tucker Track: the curious history of Australian food, including a recipe for the Barcoo Sandwich which, according to Bill Harney, was ‘anything edible including a galah between two sheets of bark!’ The early settlers certainly ate their fair share of native fauna, especially kangaroo and wallaby, but galahs were reputedly tough as old boots. The standard recipe ran: place three galahs in a billy with a large rock. When the rock is soft the birds are ready to eat. Harney used to say the general bush philosophy was, “If it moves, shoot it – it might be good tucker’”.

This song was sent to Dr Percy Jones in the early 1950s, from Joan Bowran, Tallangatta, with a note, “Sung sixty years ago by a Mr Hulbert.”

PICTURE OF SYDNEY & STRANGERS GUIDE

James Maclehos
RHS reprint of the original 1839
Continues about the importance of emigration.

(The attraction of emigration to New South Wales) ‘Was especially surprising when, the original elements of our society comprised all the vices and miseries of depraved society. Selected by the British Government as the great repository of national crime ñ as the immense sink into which the nation might discharge its ‘superfluity of naughtiness’ ñ this territory was for many years occupied exclusively by felons and their overseers, and could be regarded in no other light than that of a territorial gaol.

NB the system of making free land grants to emigrants remained in operation until the middle of the year 1931.

Like their British, Scottish and Irish counterparts the convicted class composed and circulated songs. Some were old ballads that had been in their family or community repertoire for some time and others were newly composed songs that had been circulated by broadside and chapbook sellers. The convicts sang to amuse themselves and fellow inmates because this was an accepted part of the entertainment patterns of the day. The soldiers and administrators who governed them also had their music, notably patriotic songs and parlour music, but some would certainly have also sung the old songs from their child hood.

The ‘bush of Australia’ mentioned in the verses of the following is not to be found on the map! This is an old song that could best be described as erotic rather than bawdy song. Interestingly it is one of the earliest to discuss sexual relations between the Europeans and indigenous people. It is also an age-old theme in folk song where the innocent woman is left with a baby but no father.

Here is Jim Cargill singing the song.

MAIDS OF AUSTRALIA

One day as I strolled by the Hawkesbury banks
Where the maids of Australia, they play their wild pranks
Near a palm-shaded tree, I laid myself down,
To admire the young damsels who gathered around
On the banks of that stream in Australia
Round the banks of that stream in Australia
Where the maids are all handsome and gay

Soon a charming young damsel before me appeared
She came for to bathe in the streams close by here
With kissing and caressing, she soon said to me
Can’t you see it’s the dress that kind nature gave me
On the morn I was born in Australia
On the morn I was born in Australia
Where the maids are all handsome and gay

Soon exhausted by swimming she swam to the brink
Come and save me, kind sir, I’m afraid that I’ll sink
Like lightning I sprang and got hold of her hand
I tried for to rise but fell back on the sand
And I entered the bush of Australia
And I entered the bush of Australia
Where the maids are all handsome and gay

Soon the eighth month was over and the ninth month had come
And the charming young creature brought forth a fine son
She looked for his dad, but nowhere could be found
It’s then she remembered that fall on the ground
On the banks of that stream in Australia
On the banks of that stream in Australia
Where the maidens are all handsome and gay.
Anonymous. From the singing of Jim Cargill, Randwick, NSW, collected by Warren Fahey 1973. Mr Cargill was in his late eighties when he recorded this song that he had learnt off his father who had sailed here in the nineteenth century. See Australian Folklore Unit file for more information and songs from Jim Cargill.

Warren Fahey sings ‘The Old Bark Hut’  Warren Fahey: Vocals, Jaw Harp. Marcus Holden: Dobro, Stroviol, Mandolin, Cittern. Garry Steel: Accordion, Piano, Bass, Drum.

The Old Bark Hut.

“Necessity is the mother of invention” and, by all accounts, necessity led to all types of makeshift dwellings for the average bushman. Newspapers became wallpaper, empty jam tins became saucepans, shovels served as an impromptu frying pan, hats were used to strain drinking water, sugar bags became blankets and memories became firm friends. The story of Bob the Swagman and his trials and tribulations, not to mention his determination and optimism, has been one of the most endearing bush songs of all.

Collected from Mr Jacob Lollbach MBE, Grafton, in 1973. Mr Lollbach was a grand 102 when I recorded this full set of verses he had been singing for over eighty years. Mr. Lollbach had learnt the song from a bullock driver, Jack Horner, who sang it to the tune of  ‘The Wearing Of The Green’.  It was also included in Paterson’s Old Bush Songs, 1905 edition. Will Lawson, in Australian Bush Songs and Ballads, attributed this song to William Perrie adding “These verses were written in the shepherding days – when fences were few and far between – at Dungog, NSW. William Perrie was a veterinary surgeon in practice there.”  Verses five, six and seven are from this version.

Jacob Lollbach/Fahey. National Library ORAL TRC321/33

Warren Fahey sings ‘The New England Cocky’. Marcus Holden: Cittern, Viola, Bass, Bassoon. Garry Steel: Accordion.

New England Cocky. 

The fight for survival must have been tough for our pioneering families who were continually battling the elements and the banks. It was often believed that tea was one of the few things that could hold body and soul together in the hard times. Steele Rudd’s On Our Selection, published in 1899, summed it up neatly: ‘We couldn’t very well go without tea, so Dad showed Mother how to make a new kind. He roasted a slice of bread on the fire till it was like a black coal. Then he poured the boiling water over it and let it draw well. Dad said it had a capital flavour—he liked it.’

Many pioneer families were successful but many also lived almost hand-to-mouth in the hope of a change in fortune. The old cocky farmer in this song, true to his name of scratching out a living, has gathered his family as he prepares to depart for the long-paddock in the sky however, before he goes, he bequeaths his legacy and bush wisdom. The song was included in Banjo Paterson’s Old Bush Songs, 1924 edition. The New England district is in New South Wales around Tamworth, Manilla and Armidale.

THE AUSTRALIAN GOLD DIGGER’S MONTHLY

059/124

1852/3

Published in Melbourne by James Bonwick.
Songster size.
Toasts and songs followed. Among the latter was the following:

In every clime, it aye has been a Briton’s proudest boast,
To have his Christmas pudding and his fine old English roast;

Then why should we, on Turin’s stream, like soulless churls, forbear?
To keep the good old custom up, and have our Christmas fare?

Though ‘neath no season’s rarities our rough-made table bends,
We care not,since within this bower, we see but hearty friends,

Nor envy we the formal feast ñ each man precisely dressed ñ
Our shirts of scarlet suit us well as white cravats and vest.

Southern Cross

Fragment

From Southern Lights and Shadows by Frank Fowler 1859.
He claimed it was a bullocky toast
sung by the anti dray and land tax law league of SA

Olle heigh Ho
Blow your horns blow
Blow the Southern Cross down if you will

But on you must go
Where fresh gullies flow
And the thirsty crane wets his red bill

From Robyn Ridley 1970 who said her mother sang this ditty.

Hill End

The flies crawled up the window

That’s all they had to do
They went up by the thousands
And came down two by two
The flies crawled up the window
They said they loved to roam

Once more up the window
And then we’ll all go home.

THE EMIGRANT’S MANUAL

EDINBURGH 1852

‘In NSW, as in other Australian colonies, crown land is now sold at not less than 20s an acre.’

Excursions & Adventures in NSW

Capt Henderson 78th Highlanders
London Vole 1 & 2

1854
DSM/981/37B Vols. 1 & 2

The above song has been recorded in Paterson’s ‘Old Bush Songs’ and Stewart & Keesing offer another, supposedly from 1857, however this possibly is the original. That said, Henderson’s notes, though very reliable in other situations, is still slightly ambiguous in as far as his actual authorship of the song. It should also be noted that Surgeon Goodwin, whose version appears in Stewart and Keesing could also be considered as the original especially since he was resident in Sydney first. Whatever the case both versisons are very different.

Melodies of the People appeared in Heads Of The People Magazine and was a series of songs sharing the frustration of new settlers on the land. Sometimes witty and sometimes showing the frustration those pioneer farmers must have experienced.

This is typical of a group of emigration songs where the English or Irish new chum is confounded by bush life. I have not been able to work out the meaning of the chorus where the blame is laid on the agent ñ I am assuming it is either an emigration agent or a shipping agent. Maybe it was an employment agent who sent him out bush?

Land speculation was almost a disease as emigrants moved across the country looking to buy land with government incentive programs. Journalist Clarke obviously took a dim view of some of the speculators selling the land.

This next item concerns itself with opposition to the churches missionary zeal and their stance on the Maori Wars.

HANDWRITTEN SONGBOOK BY DAVID MCLEOD

Dated 1855
D7505 misc.
Most of the songs in this collection are parlour-type songs.

This following item is found in Ireland, Scotland and America. It has been suggested the tune is as old as 1650 and was originally used as a fife tune. Another has it from Queen Elizabeth the First’s era when it was used to pipe ships from and into the harbour. The tune has been collected in Australia several times and was popular as a dance melody. There exist several verses and variants of the song itself.