1. |
Grey Gulf Water
04:53
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Grey Gulf Water
Far to the Northward there lies a land,
A wonderful land that the winds blow over
And none may fathom nor understand
The charm it holds for the restless rover;
A great grey chaos - a land half made,
Where endless space is and no life stirreth;
And the soul of a man will recoil afraid
From the sphinx-like visage that Nature weareth.
But old Dame Nature, though scornful, craves
Her dole of death and her share of slaughter;
Many indeed are the nameless graves
Where her victims sleep by the Grey Gulf-water.
Slowly and slowly those grey streams glide,
Drifting along with a languid motion,
Lapping the reed-beds on either side,
Wending their way to the Northern Ocean.
Grey are the plains where the emus pass
Silent and slow, with their staid demeanour;
Over the dead men's graves the grass
Maybe is waving a trifle greener.
Down in the world where men toil and spin
Dame Nature smiles as man's hand has taught her;
Only the dead men her smiles can win
In the great lone land by the Grey Gulf-water.
For the strength of man is an insect's strength
In the face of that mighty plain and river,
And the life of a man is a moment's length
To the life of the stream that will run forever.
And so it cometh they take no part
In small-world worries; each hardy rover
Rideth abroad and is light of heart,
With the plains around and the blue sky over.
And up in the heavens the brown lark sings
The songs that the strange wild land has taught her;
Full of thanksgiving her sweet song rings --
And I wish I were back by the Grey Gulf-water.
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2. |
Lay of the Motor Car
03:18
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Lay of the Motor Car
We're away! and the wind whistles shrewd
In our whiskers and teeth;
And the granite-like grey of the road
Seems to slide underneath.
As an eagle might sweep through the sky,
So we sweep through the land;
And the pallid pedestrians fly
When they hear us at hand.
We outpace, we outlast, we outstrip!
Not the fast-fleeing hare,
Nor the racehorses under the whip,
Nor the birds of the air
Can compete with our swiftness sublime,
Our ease and our grace.
We annihilate chickens and time
And policemen and space.
Do you mind that fat grocer who crossed?
How he dropped down to pray
In the road when he saw he was lost;
How he melted away
Underneath, and there rang through the fog
His ear-splitting squeal
As he went - Is that he or a dog,
That stuff on the wheel?
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3. |
Bottle 'O
04:03
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Bottle ‘O Man
I ain't the kind of bloke as takes to any steady job;
I drives me bottle cart around the town;
A bloke what keeps 'is eyes about can always make a bob -
I couldn't bear to graft for every brown.
There's lots of handy things about in everybody's yard,
There's cocks and hens a-runnin' to an' fro,
And little dogs what comes and barks -
we take 'em off their guard
And we puts 'em with the Empty Bottle-oh!
[So it's any "Empty bottles! Any empty bottle-oh!"
You can hear us round for half a mile or so.
And you'll see the women rushing
To take in the Monday's washing
When they 'ear us crying, "Empty Bottle-oh!" ]
I'm drivin' down by Wexford-street and up a winder goes,
A girl sticks out 'er 'ead and looks at me,
An all-right tart with ginger 'air, and freckles on 'er nose;
I stops the cart and walks across to see.
"There ain't no bottles 'ere," says she, "since father took the pledge;"
"No bottles 'ere," says I, "I'd like to know
What right 'ave you to stick your 'ead outside the winder ledge,
If you 'aven't got no Empty Bottle-oh!"
[chorus]
I sometimes gives the 'orse a spell, and then the push and me
We takes a little trip to Chowder Bay.
Oh! ain't it nice the 'ole day long a-gazin' at the sea
And a-hidin' of the tanglefoot away.
But when the booze gits 'old of us, and fellows starts to "scrap",
There's some what likes blue-metal for to throw:
But as for me, I always says for layin' out a "trap"
There's nothin' like an Empty Bottle-oh!
[chorus]
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4. |
The Uplift
04:32
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The uplift
When the drays are bogged and sinking, then it's no use sitting thinking,
You must put the teams together and must double-bank the pull.
When the crop is light and weedy, or the fleece is burred and seedy,
Then the next year's crop and fleeces may repay you to the full.
So it's lift her, johnny, lift her,
Put your back in it and shift her,
While the jibber, jabber, jabber of the politicians flows.
If your nag's too poor to travel
Then get down and scratch the gravel
For you'll get there if you walk it - if you don't, you'll feed the crows.
Shall we waste our time debating with a grand young country waiting
For the plough and for the harrow and the lucerne and the maize?
For it's work alone will save us in the land that fortune gave us
There's no crop but what we'll grow it; there's no stock but what we'll raise.
[chorus]
When the team is bogged and sinking
Then it's no use sitting thinking.
There's a roadway up the mountain that the old black leader knows:
So it's lift her, johnny, lift her,
Put your back in it and shift her,
Take a lesson from the bullock - he goes slowly, but he goes!
[chorus]
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5. |
Sunrise on the Coast
05:36
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Sunrise on the coast
Grey dawn on the sand-hills - the night wind has drifted
All night from the rollers a scent of the sea;
With the dawn the grey fog his battalions has lifted,
At the call of the morning they scatter and flee.
Like mariners calling the roll of their number
The sea-fowl put out to the infinite deep.
And far overhead sinking softly to slumber -
Worn out by their watching the stars fall asleep.
To eastward, where rests the broad dome of the skies
on the sea-line, stirs softly the curtain of night;
And far from behind the enshrouded horizon
Comes the voice of a God saying "Let there be light."
And lo, there is light! Evanescent and tender,
It glows ruby-red where 'twas once ashen-grey;
And purple and scarlet and gold in its splendour
Behold, 'tis that marvel, the birth of a day!
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6. |
Any Other Time
04:53
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Any other time
Ask me what you want
I'll do anything
But today is not convenient
Ask me anytime but now
. . . . . .
All of us play our very best game
Any other time.
Golf or billiards, it’s all the same
Any other time.
Lose a match and you always say,
“Just my luck! I was ‘off’ to-day!
I could have beaten him quite half-way
Any other time!”
After a fiver you oughta go
Any other time.
every man that you ask says “Oh,
Any other time.
Lend you a fiver! I’d lend you two,
But I’m overdrawn and my bills are due,
Wish you’d ask me, now, mind you do
Any other time!”
Fellows will ask you out to dine
Any other time.
“Not to-night, for we’re twenty-nine
Any other time.
Not tomorrow, for the cook’s on strike,
Not next day, I’ll be out on the bike
Just drop in whenever you like
Any other time!”
Seasick passengers like the sea
Any other time.
“Something I ate disagreed with me!
Any other time
Ocean-travellin is simply bliss,
Must be my liver has gone amiss.
Why, I would laugh at a sea like this
Any other time.”
Most of us mean to be better men
Any other time:
Regular upright characters then
Any other time.
Yet somehow as the years go by
Still we gamble and drink and lie,
When it comes to the last we’ll want to die
Any other time!
Any other time.
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7. |
Old Man Platypus
03:45
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Old man platypus
Far from the trouble and toil of town,
Where the reed beds sweep and shiver,
Look at a fragment of velvet brown -
Old Man Platypus drifting down,
Drifting along the river.
And he plays and dives in the river bends
In a style that is most elusive;
With few relations and fewer friends,
For Old Man Platypus descends
From a family most exclusive.
He shares his burrow beneath the bank
With his wife and his son and daughter
At the roots of the reeds and the grasses rank;
And the bubbles show where our hero sank
To its entrance under water.
Safe in their burrow below the falls
They live in a world of wonder,
Where no one visits and no one calls,
They sleep like little brown billiard balls
With their beaks tucked neatly under.
And he talks in a deep unfriendly growl
As he goes on his journey lonely;
For he's no relation to fish nor fowl,
Nor to bird nor beast, nor horned owl;
In fact, he's the one and only!
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8. |
A Grain of Sand
05:06
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A grain of sand
Beneath the blue Egyptian skies,
With ramp and roller, guide and stay,
I saw the Pyramids arise
And I shall see them pass away.
I watched when Alexander passed;
I saw Napoleon’s flag unfurled -
The greatest and perhaps the last
Of men whose footsteps shook the world.
To each his hour of pride and place,
Arab and Persian, Greek and Jew;
Mahomet trod upon my face,
Darius spurned me with his shoe.
And yet I am not Priest or Kin,
Sultan or chief in high command.
I am that one unchanging thing,
And i have spread across the lands
. . . . . .
And yet I am not Priest or Kin,
Sultan or chief in high command.
I am that one unchanging thing,
I am a grain of desert sand
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9. |
Santa Claus
03:24
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Santa Claus
“HALT! Who goes there?” The sentry’s call
Rose on the midnight air
Above the noises of the camp,
The roll of wheels, the horses’ tramp.
The challenge echoed over all -
“Halt! Who goes there?”
A quaint old figure clothed in white,
He bore a staff of pine,
An ivy-wreath was on his head.
“Advance, oh friend,” the sentry said,
“Advance, for this is Christmas night,
And give the countersign.”
“No sign nor countersign have I,
Through many lands I roam
The whole world over far and wide,
To exiles all at Christmastide,
From those who love them tenderly
I bring a thought of home.
“From English brook and Scottish burn,
From cold Canadian snows,
From those far lands ye hold most dear
I bring you all a greeting here,
A frond of a New Zealand fern,
A bloom of English rose.
“From faithful wife and loving lass
I bring a wish divine,
For Christmas blessings on your head.”
“I wish you well,” the sentry said,
“But here, alas! you may not pass
Without the countersign.”
He vanished and the sentry’s tramp
Re-echoed down the line.
It was not till the morning light
The soldiers knew that in the night
Old Santa Claus had come to camp
Without the countersign.
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10. |
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Song of the Artesian water
Now the stock have started dying, for the Lord has sent a drought;
But we're sick of prayers and Providence - we're going to do without;
With the derricks up above us and the solid earth below,
We are waiting at the lever for the word to let her go.
Sinking down, deeper down,
Oh, we'll sink it deeper down:
The drill is plugging downward at a thousand feet of level,
If the Lord won't send us water, oh, we'll get it from the devil;
Yes, we'll get it from the devil deeper down.
Sinking down, deeper down,
Oh, we'll sink it deeper
Down bidee roodah yo
To the devil deeper down
Now, our engine's built in Glasgow by a very canny Scot,
And he marked it twenty horse-power, but he don't know what is what:
When Canadian Bill is firing with the sun-dried gidgee logs,
She can equal thirty horses and a score or so of dogs.
Sinking down, deeper down,
Oh, we'll sink it deeper down:
If we fail to get the water, then it's ruin to the squatter,
For the drought is on the station and the weather's growing hotter,
Yes, the weather's growing hotter deeper down.
But the shaft has started caving and the sinking's very slow,
And the yellow rods are bending in the water down below,
the tubes are always jamming, and they can't be made to shift
Till we nearly burst the engine with a forty horse-power lift.
Sinking down, deeper down,
Oh, we'll sink it deeper down:
the shaft is always caving, and the tubes are always jamming,
Yet we'll fight our way to water while the stubborn drill is ramming -
the stubborn drill is ramming deeper down.
But there's no artesian water, though we've passed three thousand feet,
And the contract price is growing, and the boss is nearly beat.
But it must be down beneath us, and it's down we've got to go,
Though she's bumping on the solid rock four thousand feet below.
Sinking down, deeper down,
Oh, we'll sink it deeper down:
it's time they heard us knocking on the roof of Satan's dwellin';
we'll get artesian water if we cave the roof of hell in -
we'll cave the roof of hell in deeper down.
But it's hark! the whistle's blowing with a wild, exultant blast,
And the boys are madly cheering, for they've struck the flow at last;
it's rushing up the tubing from four thousand feet below,
Till it spouts above the casing in a million-gallon flow.
It comes from down, deeper down --
Oh, it comes from deeper down;
Its flowing, ever flowing, in a free, unstinted measure
From the silent hidden places where the old earth hides her treasure --
the earth is hidin’ treasure deeper down.
Deeper down, deeper down,
Oh it comes from deeper
Down bidee roodah yo
From the devil deeper down
And it's clear away the timber, and it's let the water run:
How it glimmers in the shadow, how it flashes in the sun!
By the silent bells of timber, by the miles of blazing plain
It is bringing hope and comfort to the thirsty land again.
flowing down, deeper down;
Oh it flows from deeper down
To the tortured thirsty cattle, bringing gladness in its going;
Through the droughty days of summer its flowing, ever flowing --
Its flowing, ever flowing, deeper down.
Flowing down, deeper down,
Oh it flows from deeper
Down bidee roodah yo
From the devil deeper down
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11. |
Kiley's Run
08:04
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Kileys run
The roving breezes come and go
On Kiley's Run,
The sleepy river murmurs low,
And far away one dimly sees
Beyond the stretch of forest trees
Beyond the foothills dusk and dun
The ranges sleeping in the sun
On Kiley's Run.
'Tis many years since first I came
To Kiley's Run,
More years than I would care to name
Since I, a stripling, used to ride
For miles and miles at Kiley's side,
The while in stirring tones he told
The stories of the days of old
On Kiley's Run.
I see the old bush homestead now
On Kiley's Run,
Just nestled down beneath the brow
Of one small ridge above the sweep
Of river-flat, where willows weep
And jasmine flowers and roses bloom,
The air was laden with perfume
On Kiley's Run.
We lived the good old station life
On Kiley's Run,
With little thought of care or strife.
Old Kiley seldom used to roam,
He liked to make the Run his home,
The swagman never turned away
With empty hand at close of day
From Kiley's Run.
We kept a racehorse now and then
On Kiley's Run,
And neighb'ring stations brought their men
To meetings where the sport was free,
And dainty ladies came to see
Their champions ride; with laugh and song
The old house rang the whole night long
On Kiley's Run.
The station hands were friends I wot
On Kiley's Run,
A reckless, merry-hearted lot
All splendid riders, and they knew
The boss' was kindness through and through.
Old Kiley always stood their friend,
And so they served him to the end
On Kiley's Run.
. . . . .
But droughts and losses came apace
To Kiley's Run,
Till ruin stared him in the face;
He toiled and toiled while lived the light,
He dreamed of overdrafts at night:
At length, because he could not pay,
His bankers took the stock away
From Kiley's Run.
Old Kiley stood and saw them go
From Kiley's Run.
The well-bred cattle marching slow;
His stockmen, mates for many a day,
They wrung his hand and went away.
Too old to make another start,
Old Kiley died of broken heart,
On Kiley's Run.
. . . . .
The owner lives in England now
Of Kiley's Run.
He knows a racehorse from a cow;
But that is all he knows of stock:
His chiefest care is how to dock
Expenses, and he sends from town
To cut the shearers' wages down
On Kiley's Run.
There are no neighbours anywhere
Near Kiley's Run.
The hospitable homes are bare,
The gardens gone; for no pretence
Must hinder cutting down expense:
The homestead that we held so dear
Contains a half-paid overseer
On Kiley's Run.
All life and sport and hope have died
On Kiley's Run.
No longer there the stockmen ride;
For sour-faced boundary riders creep
On mongrel horses after sheep,
Through ranges where, at racing speed,
Old Kiley used to wheel the lead'
On Kiley's Run.
There runs a lane for thirty miles
Through Kiley's Run.
On either side the herbage smiles,
But wretched trav'lling sheep must pass
Without a drink or blade of grass
Thro' that long lane of death and shame:
The weary drovers curse the name
Of Kiley's Run.
The name itself is changed of late
Of Kiley's Run.
They call it 'Chandos Park Estate'.
The lonely swagman through the dark
Must hump his swag past Chandos Park.
The name is English, don't you see,
The old name sweeter sounds to me
Of Kiley's Run'.
I cannot guess what fate will bring
To Kiley's Run
For chances come and changes ring
I scarcely think 'twill always be
Locked up to suit an absentee;
And if he lets it out in farms,
His tenants soon will carry arms
On Kiley's Run
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Niq Reefman Sydney, Australia
Niq trumpets like a singer, keyboards like a bass player, sings like a narrator and ukuleles like an electric guitar - his
musical performance is best described by picturing “Tim Minchin, flying a trumpet through a thunderstorm”.
He spreads songs of beauty, mirth, camaraderie, inspiration and action to a world that craves the social zest of an Irish pub and the hopeful melodies of nature.
... more
Niq Reefman recommends:
Determination
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I heard them at Folk Rhythm Life Festival, and they're a crazy fusion of jazz, funk, electro and pure fun!
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They're theatrical, jazzy, folky dudes who tell stories through their music...and their crowdfunding campaign was loads of fun!
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