The Old Bush Songs

by Unknown

[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 shore 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 snob
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 butter, 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 slut,
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 snob?”—A snob 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 COCKATOO

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 cockatoo.
Chorus
Oh, the stringy-bark cockatoo,
Oh, the stringy-bark cockatoo,
I got a job of reaping off a stringy-bark cockatoo.
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
cockatoo.
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.
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
cockatoo.
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
cockatoo.
Chorus: Oh, the stringy-bark, &c.
For dinner we had goanna hash, we thought it mighty
hard;
They wouldn’t give us butter, 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 cockatoo.
Chorus: Oh, the stringy-bark, &c.
When we started to cut the rust and smut 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 cockatoo.
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 cocky, he grew jealous, and he thumped me black
and blue,
And he drove me off without a rap—the stringy-bark
cockatoo.
Chorus: Oh, the stringy-bark, &c.

[For note on this song, see Introduction.]