The Old Bush Songs Part 3

So now, my friends, I've sung my song, and that as well as I could, And I hope the ladies present won't think my language rude, And all ye younger people, in the days when you grow up, Remember Bob the Swagman, and the old bark hut.

Chorus

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.

Remember Bob the Swagman, and the old bark hut.

THE OLD SURVEY

Our money's all spent, to the deuce went it!

The landlord, he looks glum, On the tap-room wall, in a very bad scrawl, He has chalked to us a sum.

But a gla.s.s we'll take, ere the grey dawn break, And then saddle up and away- Theodolite-tum, theodolite-ti, theodolite-too-ral-ay.

With a measured beat fall our horses' feet, Galloping side by side; When the money's done, and we've had our fun, We all are bound to ride.

O'er the far-off plain we'll drag the chain, And mark the settler's way- Theodolite-tum, theodolite-ti, theodolite-too-ral-ay.

We'll range from the creeks to the mountain peaks, And traverse far below; Where foot never trod, we'll mark with a rod The limits of endless snow;

Each lofty crag we'll plant with a flag, To flash in the sun's bright ray- Theodolite-tum, theodolite-ti, theodolite-too-ral-ay.

Till with cash hard-earned once more returned, At "The Beaver" bars we'll shout; And the very bad scrawl that's against the wall Ourselves shall see wiped out.

Such were the ways in the good old days!- The days of the old survey!

Theodolite-tum, theodolite-ti, theodolite-too-ral-ay.

DWELL NOT WITH ME

Dwell, not with me, For you'll never see More than a 'possum or a kangaroo, And now and then a c.o.c.katoo.

Oh, would you wish, Without a dish, Your scanty meal from a piece of bark, And a wood fire to illume the dark.

'Tis there you'd mourn, 'Tis there you'd mourn The sweet woodbine That round your lattice now doth twine.

Fond friends, don't grieve For scenes like these, Or smart from bugs, mosquitoes, fleas.

Dwell not with me.

THE BEAUTIFUL LAND OF AUSTRALIA

All you on emigration bent, With home and England discontent, Come, listen to my sad lament, All about the bush of Australia.

I once possessed a thousand pounds.

Thinks I-how very grand it sounds For a man to be farming his own grounds In the beautiful land of Australia.

Chorus

Illawarra, Mittagong, Parramatta, Wollongong.

If you wish to become an ourang-outang, Then go to the bush of Australia.

Upon the voyage the s.h.i.+p was lost.

In wretched plight I reached the coast, And was very nigh being made a roast, By the savages of Australia.

And in the bush I lighted on A fierce bushranger with his gun, Who borrowed my garments, every one, For himself in the bush of Australia.

Chorus

Illawarra, Mittagong, Parramatta, Wollongong.

If you wish to become an ourang-outang, Then go to the bush of Australia.

Sydney town I reached at last, And now, thinks I, all danger's past, And I shall make my fortune fast In this promising land of Australia.

I quickly went with cash in hand, Upon the map I chose my land.

When I got there 'twas barren sand In the beautiful land of Australia.

Chorus

Illawarra, Mittagong, Parramatta, Wollongong- If you wish to become an ourang-outang, Then go to the bush of Australia.

Of sheep I got a famous lot.

Some died of hunger, some of rot, For the devil a drop of rain they got, In this flouris.h.i.+ng land of Australia.

My convict men were always drunk, They kept me in a constant funk.

Says I to myself, as to bed I slunk, How I wish I was out of Australia!

Chorus

Booligal, Gobarralong, Emu Flat and Jugiong.

If you wish to become an ourang-outang, Then go to the bush of Australia.

Of ills, enough I've had you'll own.

And then at last, my woes to crown, One night my log house was blown down That settled us all in Australia And now of home and all bereft, The horrid spot I quickly left, Making it over by deed of gift To the savages of Australia.

Chorus

Booligal, Gobarralong, Emu Flat and Jugiong.

If you wish to become an ourang-outang, Then go to the bush of Australia

I gladly worked my pa.s.sage home, And now to England back I've come, Determined never more to roam, At least, to the bush of Australia.

And stones upon the road I'll break, And earn my seven bob a week, Which is surely better than the freak Of settling down in Australia.

Chorus

Currabubula, Bogolong, Ulladulla, Gerringong.

If you wouldn't become an ourang-outang, Don't go to the bush of Australia.