The Murrumbidgee Shearer – Australian Songs is a collection of songs made famous by some of Australia’s greatest bush balladeers. The songs are delivered in the true Australian style.
The Murrumbidgee Shearer is the traditional Australian song, but the composer of the song was unknown.
What the words mean
- Barwon ~ a river that runs through Queensland, NSW and Victoria
- Darling ~ 4th longest river in Australia.
- Murrumbidgee ~ major river in NSW and the ACT. The word means “big water” in the local Aboriginal Wiradjuri language.
- Paroo ~ major tributary of the Darling River and flows in Queensland and NSW
- Ballarat ~ city in Victoria approximately 105 km (65mi) from Melbourne.
- Lachlan – river in central NSW
- Lambing Flat ~ original name of the present NSW town called Young. The town is named after Sir John Young, Governor of NSW 1861-7.
- station ~ usually large cattle or sheep properties (a ranch in USA)
Come, all you jolly natives, and I’ll relate to you
Some of my observations — adventures, too, a few.
I’ve travelled about the country for miles, full many a score,
And oft-times would have hungered, but for the cheek I bore.
I’ve coasted on the Barwon — low down the Darling, too,
I’ve been on the Murrumbidgee, and out on the Paroo;
I’ve been on all the diggings, boys, from famous Ballarat;
I’ve loafed upon the Lachlan and fossicked Lambing Flat.
I went up to a squatter, and asked him for a feed,
But the knowledge of my hunger was swallowed by his greed.
He said I was a loafer and for work had no desire,
And so, to do him justice, I set his shed on fire.
Oh, yes, I’ve touched the shepherd’s hut, of sugar, tea, and flour;
And a tender bit of mutton I always could devour.
I went up to a station, and there I got a job;
Plunged in the store, and hooked it, with a very tidy lob.
Oh, yes, my jolly dandies, I’ve done it on the cross.
Although I carry bluey now, I’ve sweated many a horse.
I’ve helped to ease the escort of many’s the ounce of gold;
The traps have often chased me, more times than can be told.
Oh, yes, the traps have chased me, been frightened of their stripes
They never could have caught me, they feared my cure for gripes.
And well they knew I carried it, which they had often seen
A-glistening in my flipper, chaps, a patent pill machine.
I’ve been hunted like a panther into my mountain lair.
Anxiety and misery my grim companions there.
I’ve planted in the scrub, my boys, and fed on kangaroo,
And wound up my avocations by ten years on Cockatoo.
So you can understand, my boys, just from this little rhyme,
I’m a Murrumbidgee shearer, and one of the good old time.