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BARBED WIRE BALLADS
- Songs of Australia' by Graham Seal
Unvarnished Productions,
PO Box 284, Mt. Hawthorn WA 6016.
($12.00 + p&p).
TRACK LIST | LYRICS | REVIEW
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LYRICS HUMPING THE DRUM
I've humped my drum from Kingdom Come
To the back of the Milky Way
Boiled my quart on the Cape of York
And starved last Christmas Day.
I crossed the Murray and drank in Cloncurry
Where they charged a bob a nip
I worked on the Gulf where the cattle are duffed
And the squatters let them rip.
I've worked from morn in the fields of corn
Till the sun was out of sight
I've cause to know the great byno
And the Great Australian Bight
I danced with Kit when the lamps were lit
And with Doll when the dance broke up
I flung my hat on the Myall track
When Bowman won the Cup
I laughed aloud with the merry crowd
In the City of the Plains
I sweated too on Onderoo
While bogged in those big bore drains
I wheeled my bike from the Shearer's Strike
Not wanting a funeral shroud
And I made the weight for the Flying Stakes
But I dodged the lynching crowd.
I carried a gun through World War One
Then went on the track again
From Omeo to Bendigo
To Bourke and back again
I shed some tears in the hungry years
When jobs were short and few
Then I packed up a swag and an old tucker bag
There was nothing else to do.
Yes, I've humped my drum from Kingdom Come
To the back of the Milky Way.
ONE LOST BABE IN THE WILDERNESS
Wild dogs howling in the empty desert night,
People are searching by desperate torch-light
Rifles are cracking at anything in sight.
One lost babe in the wilderness.
A government is looking for a re-election plan,
The police are hoping for a criminal to hang
A nation is waiting for the blood of a lamb.
One lost babe in the wilderness.
The papers are desperate for a story to tell,
The telly is looking for a vision to sell
The righteous are ready to damn someone to hell.
One lost babe in the wilderness.
Lawyers are looking for a long legal case,
Scientists are seeking for ways to save face
Very few among them with a single saving grace.
One lost babe in the wilderness.
Time for the guilty, time for the innocent.
Time for judging and time for punishment.
Time to forgive time to repent.
One lost babe in the wilderness.
One lost babe in the wilderness.
SAILORTOWN
Scrappy old town beside a turquoise sea
Ships of sin lie by your salty quays
You can buy anything you need - lust or greed
And it don't matter ...
Chorus
If you're outward bound
Or you're homeward bound
You're sure to drown
You're sure to drown if you go down to Sailortown
Half-hitch sailors three sheets in the wind
Rolling round the brothels and the inns
The Flying Angel smiles on all their sins - and takes them in
It don't matter
If you're outward bound
Or you're homeward bound
You're sure to drown
You're sure to drown if you go down to Sailortown
Foundered in the shallows or the deeps
Wrecked upon the ragged rocks and reefs
Castaways are keel-hauled on the beach - far out of reach
And it don't matter...
If you're outward bound
Or you're homeward bound
You're sure to drown
You're sure to drown if you go down to Sailortown
You're sure to drown if you go down
To Sailortown.
LAMENT OF THE EUREKA WOMEN
They came like death at dawn;
Bearing muskets through the fields.
The soldiers came with eyes of flame,
They killed with hearts of steel.
They beat the bitter drum.
Their swords and bayonets flashed.
They tore our flag like a beggar's rag,
Burned our dreams to ash.
They fired our hearths and homes;
Left them open to the skies.
With hands of blood they took our loves:
They would not meet our eyes.
No, they could not bear our eyes.
THE RIVER RAN LIKE MURDER
In the last days of October, eighteen thirty-four,
Governor James Stirling armed his men for war.
They mounted their horses, they rode night and day,
And the river ran like murder - down Pinjarra way.
The blacks were surrounded in the early morning light,
The women held the children and the men turned to fight.
Caught in the crossfire no-one could get away,
And the river ran like murder - down Pinjarra way.
Like wild beasts through the bush the blacks were hunted down,
With spears against lead bullets they could not hold their ground.
The troopers shot the wounded and left them where they lay,
And the river ran like murder - down Pinjarra way.
Now the bush along the river bank has overgrown the bones.
The blood has washed away from the silent river stones.
But still the voices speak about that dark and bloody day,
When the river ran like murder - down Pinjarra way.
AUSTRALIA'S BONNY BOY
His name was Les Darcy
He came from Maitland Town
Fists like two pile-drivers
Knocked all comers down.
The papers said he was a skiter
He'd soon be on the ropes
But he proved he was a tiger
He raised all their hopes...
Every Saturday night
Australia's bonny boy
Would fight for the crowd.
He fought in the fairground sideshows
And the crowds all roared for more
He won his buckles in the big time
On that Sydney Stadium floor
He beat the finest fighters
They sent from across the world
And all the papers said he might be
Champion of the world ...
Every Saturday night
Australia's bonny boy
Would fight for the crowd.
The bugles blew in Nineteen-fourteen
But he was too young to serve
The papers said his country called him
White feathers tried his nerve.
The night before he came of age,
Les Darcy stowed away
On a rusty tramp out of Newcastle
Bound for the USA ...
On that Saturday night
Australia's bonny boy
Cried for the crowd.
All the big-time American promoters
Said they'd put him in the champions' ring
But the papers called him 'coward'
Only Vaudeville fights to win.
So he joined the US Army;
A Yankee fighter he had to be.
Broke his heart while he was training
Way down in Tennessee ...
On that Saturday night
Australia's bonny boy
Died for the crowd.
They shipped his body home with honour
A headline hero young and brave
Thousands walked behind his casket
To one more martyr's grave.
His name was Les Darcy
He lies in Maitland's ground
Colder than the hearts who floored him
But his legend won't stay down ...
Every Saturday night
Australia's bonny boy
Fights...
Cries...
Dies
For the crowd.
CHRISSY'S SONG
Chrissy can't read or write,
And they say she's not too bright.
But she can read your face just like a book.
Chrissy can't read or write,
And they say she's not quite right,
But she can tell what you're thinking with one look.
Chrissy left the school.
They said 'She's just a fool'.
Now she cleans out the toilets in the public hospital.
But every other night
She learns to read and write
With a man from the university.
A, B, C, D,
E, F, G ...
He says the alphabet can set her free.
D O G,
K A T ...
It's not easy to be free.
'Teacher, tell me,
How much longer will it be,
Before I can read the words I see'?
Chrissy can't read or write,
And they say she's not too bright.
But she can read your face just like a book.
Chrissy can't read or write,
And they say she's not quite right,
But she's not wrong about the pity in your look.
THE COUNTRY KNOWS THE REST
The year was nineteen twenty-nine,
The place was Rothbury town.
The miners were all locked out
And our wage had been knocked down.
From March unto December
We lived on bread and dole,
Until the Rothbury mine re-opened
With scabs to dig the coal
And the country knows the rest...
So the miner's dole was cut
And our strike-pay couldn't last.
But the men and women of Rothbury
Determined to stand fast.
All across the coalfields
Miners heard the call,
On a warm night in December
They met at Rothbury, one and all.
And the country knows the rest.
It was just before the morning
Of that fateful day.
All the miners gathered there
To send the scabs away.
A piper played before us
In the breaking blood-red dawn,
And when we reached the Rothbury mine-gate
A bloodier day was born.
And the country knows the rest.
The police were in the bushes
With pistols in their hands.
There were more of them on horseback
To break the miners' stand.
Just how it started, I swear I'll never know,
But the guns began firing
And the blood began to flow
And the country knows the rest.
When the firing was all over
And the police had broken through,
Many miners badly beaten,
Bullet-wounded, too.
Beneath the Rothbury mine-gate
Norman Brown was lying dead,
And the life-blood from his veins
Stained the coal-dust red
And the country knows the rest.
LITTLE DANNY DOWNER
Little Danny Downer races up the street
With his face full of breakfast and his eyes full of sleep
Late for school with no lunchbox
Odd sox on and his sunhat off.
Mum's by herself with a lot on her mind,
Can't get Danny dressed in time.
He's got lots of overnight dads,
But they're not the same as the one he had.
Dad's long gone and far away;
There's not much money on payment day.
Mum's just trying to make ends meet,
And Danny spends a lot of time in the street.
Little Danny Downer races through life
Gets himself in all kinds of strife;
Chasing after big kids, beating up the small -
Poor little bugger's got no hope at all.
But every now and then he cracks a grin
And his face shines like a new biscuit tin
His laughter twangs like a singing string
And he's just another kid in the school play-gym.
Little Danny Downer races up the street
With his face full of breakfast and his eyes full of sleep
Late for school with no lunchbox
Odd sox on and his sunhat off.
EUCALYPTUS CHRISTMAS
Christmas bushes red and blooming;
Lilac flowers in the passion-fruit vine.
Cicadas sing in choirs at morning;
Deep green, silent Norfolk Pine.
Dragonfly and bee's hum
Paperbark and Ghost Gum
Eucalyptus Christmas Time.
Cockatoos crown the tree-tops;
The sun is ruler of the high blue sky.
Gecko sleeps in the rocks at noontime;
Spider waits to catch the fly.
Tumbledown verandah;
Purple Jacaranda.
Eucalyptus Christmas time.
Children splash beneath the sprinkler,
Watermelon laughter in the hot afternoon.,
Food and drink on the cool, white linen;
Sun waits up to greet the moon.
Festival occasion,
Family celebration.
Eucalyptus Christmas time.
Eucalyptus Christmas time.
DOING IT TOUGH
In the old roaring days
We had plenty always,
And meat on the table at night.
But when the big strikes were lost
We soon knew the cost,
The bosses did just as they liked.
So we went on the track
With swags on our backs
And travelled down roads hard and long.
Billy Lane sailed away
To South America, they say,
But the rest of us just battled on.
'The banks are all broken', they said
'Times will be hard and rough.
The bosses have won
And your union's done -
You'll have to start doing it tough'.
In Nineteen-nineteen
We came home from the war;
Like sheep we were still being led.
They pinned medals on us,
Gave out big blocks of dust:
'You old soldiers can farm them', they said.
But a decade of drought
And a lifetime of debt
On farms too worked out to show gain,
Saw us walk off the land
With empty hands
Straight onto the breadline again.
'The banks are all broken', they said
'Times will be hard and rough.
There's relief for the poor
At the dole-office door
But you'll have to keep doing it tough'.
Now the old days are done;
hardship is gone.
They say there's no hunger or need.
And there's no more depression,
It's just a 'recession',
Brought on by our grasping and greed.
They said we were wrong in Eighteen ninety-one.
Our fault through the thirties as well.
And we'll still get the blame
When the boom bursts again;
And this'll be the tale they tell.
'The banks are all broken', they'll say.
'Times will be hard and rough.
The good days of the past
Just couldn't last
You'll have to keep doing it tough;
You'll just have to keep doing it tough'.
One day we'll say 'We've had enough'.
BANANA REPUBLIC
Here we are in a banana republic,
Land of Crocodile Dundee.
Working for the tourist dollar,
And the multi-national company.
Sell the farm to the highest bidder,
Arabian or Japanese;
Lease it back at double interest,
Supporting their economies.
Oh-oh!, Banana Republic.
My island in the sun.
Oh-oh!, Banana Republic,
A place in the sun for everyone.
New inventions, we can make 'em,
And give them prizes, too.
But no capital to exploit them,
That for someone else to do.
Half the country on the dole;
Just a few get very fat.
Build hotel and supermarket;
National debt to pay for that.
Oh-oh!, Banana Republic.
My island in the sun.
Oh-oh!, Banana Republic,
A place in the sun for everyone.
We had two hundred birthday,
Big Bicentennial bash.
Plenty tall ship on the Harbour -
Down at the bottom all our cash.
Centenary of Federation
Time to think about where we're at;
What about Reconciliation?
(spoken) Not this year, mate, sorry about that.
Oh-oh!, Banana Republic.
My island in the sun.
Oh-oh!, Banana Republic,
A place in the sun for everyone.
A place on the dunny for every bum.
A place in the sun for everyone - else.
SALT OF THE EARTH
We must go, we must go
We must go where the four winds blow
Salt of the earth. Salt of the earth
We are broken and bloodied by the wars
We are scattered like the grains of sand upon your shores
Open your arms and hold out your hands
We are the children of all the broken lands.
We are the banished, exiled and disappeared
From the border posts, the war zones and the checkpoints of fear
We come by land, by air and by sea
We are the ones you call 'refugee'.
We must go, we must go
We must go where the four winds blow
Salt of the earth. Salt of the earth. Salt of the earth.
THE GREAT SOUTH LAND
Terra Australis Incognita,
The Unknown South Land, Australia.
We stand upon your ancient sand,
Where the southern ocean breaks on the Great South Land.
We are all sailors adrift in time.
Marooned in aeons under Wallace's line.
Becalmed between both wind and tide,
From white Antarctica to the Great Divide.
We walk upon your sacred stone
Where the spirit speaks through heart and bone.
Our dead are buried, our children born
North and south of Capricorn.
Repeat v. 1
© Graham Seal
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This webpage © 2002 Simply Australia
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