xenith | Entries tagged with songs

The Maids of the Mountains

In the wild Weddin Mountains
There live two young dames;
Kate O'Meally, Bet Mayhew
Are their pretty names;
These maids of the mountains
Are bonny bush belles;
They ride out on horseback,
Togged out like young swells.

They dressed themselves up
In their brothers' best clothes,
And looked very rakish
As you may suppose.
In the joy of their hearts
They chuckled with glee--
What fun if for robbers
They taken should be.

Just then the policemen
By day and by night,
Were seeking Frank Gardiner,
The bushranger sprite.
Bold Constable Clark
Wore a terrible frown,
And thought how Sir Freddy
By Frank was done "brown".

They sought for the 'ranger,
But of course found him not,
When suddenly Katy
And Betsy they spot.
"By Pott!" shouted Clark,
"That is Gardiner I see!
The wretch must be taken
Come boys, follow me."

"Stand!" shouted the bobbies
In accents most dread,
"Or else you will taste
Our infallible lead."
But the maids of the mountains
Just laughed at poor Clark,
And galloped away
To continue their lark.

The troopers pursued them
And hot was the chase,
'Tis only in Randwick
They go at such pace;
Clark captured the pair,
Then, to show his vexation,
He lugged them both off
To the Young police station.

The maids of the mountains,
The joke much enjoyed
To see their brave captors
So sadly annoyed;
Next day they still smiled
As they stood in the dock;
Their awful position
Their nerves did not shock.

But Constable Clark
Did not look very jolly,
He had no excuse
For such absolute folly;
He admitted the girls
Were just out on a spree,
And hoped that His Worship
Would set them both free.

And so the farce ended
Of Belles versus Blues,
Which caused no great harm
And did much to amuse;
But the Burrangong bobbies
Will place in their cells,
No more maids of the mountains--
The bonny bush belles.

Kate was a sister of Johnny O'Mealley (who worked with Gardiner, Gilbert & Hall)

No idea what I originally got this from, but in the spirit of avoiding the work I should actually be doing, I shall share it

The Ballad of Ben Hall's Gang

Come all ye wild colonials
And listen to my tale;
A story of bushrangers' deeds I will to you unveil.
Tis of those gallant heroes,
Game fighters one and all;
And we'll sit and sing,
Long Live the King,
Dunn,Gilbert, and Ben Hall.

Ben Hall he was a squatter bloke
Who owned a thousand head;
A peaceful man he was until
Arrested by Sir Fred.
His home burned down, his wife cleared out,
His cattle perished all;
"They'll not take me a second time,'
Says valiant Ben Hall.

John Gilbert was a flash cove,
And John O'Meally too;
With Ben and Bourke and Johnny Vane
They all were comrades true.
They rode into Canowindra
And gave a public ball.
'Roll up, roll up, and have a spree,'
Says Gilbert and Ben Hall.

They took possession of the town,
Including the public-houses,
And treated all the cockatoos
And shouted for their spouses.
They danced with all the pretty girls
And held a carnival.
'We don't hurt them who don't hurt us,'
Says Gilbert and Ben Hall.

They made a raid on Bathurst,
The pace was getting hot;
But Johnny Vane surrendered
After Micky Burke was shot,
O'Meally at Goimbla
like a hero fall;
'The game is getting lively,'
Says John Gilbert and Ben Hall.

Then Gilbert took a holiday,
Ben Hall got new recruits;
The Old Man and Dunleavy
Shared in the plunder's fruits.
Dunleavy he surrendered
And they jagged the Old Man tall -
So Johnny Gilbert came again
To help his mate Ben Hall.

John Dunn he was a jockey bloke,
A-riding all the winners,
Until he joined Hall's gang to rob
The publicans and sinners;
And many a time the Royal Mail
Bailed up at John Dunn's call.
A thousand pounds is on their heads -
Dunn, Gilbert, and Ben Hall.

'Next week we'll visit Goulburn
And clean the banks out there;
So if you see the troopers,
Just tell them to beware;
Some day to Sydney city
We mean to pay a call,
And we'll take the whole damn country,'
Says Dunn, Gilbert, and Ben Hall.

You might recall my bit from last year on the wreck of the George III.

Tonight, I came across this song in Farewell to Old England, by Hugh Anderson, 1964, a collection of broadsides with accompanying background material. I haven't seen it elsewhere and a web search didn't turn anything up. The only reference given for it is: 4to. N.P. N.D. [c. 1835] Copies: University of Cambridge Library (quarto, no place, no date). Helpful, indeed.

Melancholy News of the Convict Ship
George the Third

Farewell, dear friends and comrades all,
On England's fertile soil,
No more I'll view your cheering smiles,
In slavery's hardest toil.
Farewell, my mother, dearest friend,
For ever fare you well,
May you enjoy all happiness
While on earth you dwell.

If they advice I had listen'd to,
I ne'er would have gone astray,
To work in chains in a foreign land,
'Neath the sun's burning rays.
A dreadful wreck we did sustain,
Near Derwent river's mouth;
On a reef of rock we did there strike--
The wind being then due south.

The dreadful sufferings to relate
Would take a scholar's skill,
To see us in the hold secured--
The water rushing in;
A guard was round the hatchway plac'd,
To shoot us if he mov'd,
When death was making rapid strides,
'Mong some of those we lov'd.

One hundred and thirty-four were lost--
Oh! Dreadful was the woe,
To see them clinging to the wreck,
Which caused and their children young,
Clasp'd in love's embrace,
When sinking underneath the waves,
Ne'er more to see each face.

O, mother, to see us struggling with
Th' impetuous bursting surge,
Would caus'd your tender heart to break,
When some were overboard,
Crying, "Oh, Lord! forgive my sins,
For many have they been";
Then clasp'd their hands--sunk in rest,
And never more seen.

Do Not Read This Title

Entries tagged with songs

The Maids of the Mountains

The Ballad of Ben Hall's Gang

Melancholy News of the Convict Ship George the Third

Profile

Links

Most Popular Tags

Syndicate

Expand Cut Tags