The Afghan's Song

Afghan camel drivers were responsible for supplying the material needed to build desert sections of the Trans-Continental Railway and the Ghan Railway.

Hundreds of camels were used in camel trains during the constructions of these railways.

(The tune was /collected and published by Ron Edwards in his Big Book of Australian Folk Songs. It was first recorded by Matilda's Mob in Trains of Treasure Project 1985)

In his "Australian Folk Song Index" the Ron Edwards writes about this song:–



Collected and arranged by Ron Edwards from Doug Kite, Ferntree Gully, Vic, in 1956. Thirty years later I had a letter from this same informant, and so managed to once again establish contact. He said he was still hoping to get the text of the song to me.

In 1956 I was living at Ferntree Gully in Victoria, and one night my neighbour Gus Horne invited me over to his house to meet a friend. The stranger was a wiry suntanned bushman who had just arrived in Melbourne from Maree in South Australia in charge of a number of camels destined for the Melbourne zoo.

During the course of the evening he played a number of tunes on his accordion, including this one that he had learned from an old Afghan camel driver in Maree. He said that the tune had become popular at dances in the area, and was known as ‘The Afghan’s Song’. He knew of no words to it, and regarded it as a purely instrumental number.

The Afghan camel driver played an important role in the early days of South Australia, but he does not seem to have been commemorated in any other song, and is only rarely mentioned in rhyme. My informant did not know anything about the background of the song, whether it was based on an Indian air or whether the old camel driver had learned it while in Australia.

Unfortunately my notes containing the name of my informant have become lost, detached from my copy of the tune, but I remember that the Melbourne Sun had a memorable photograph of him at the time riding a camel down one of Melbourne’s main streets.

Doug never did manage to obtain the text, but by an odd coincidence while talking to the singer Ted Egan at the Woodford Folk Festival in Dec 1998 he told me that he had collected a version of this song from an old “Afghan” camel driver in Maree (possibly the same informant as Doug Kite had, or a relative). Not only had Ted collected the song but he had also recorded it on a commercial tape My Australia (seemingly published and distributed by Egan and issued in 1986).

Ted Egan believed that khala was a term of endearment, but did not know the meaning of the rest of the text, which would have been in a dialect from the north of India where the so-called “Afghans” came from. The text below is only a phonetic rendition.

KHALA KHALA
Khal khala, khala deesun gee
 
Sungee oo supundro ya, oh oh oh,
Takla shundra shundra dee sung,
Sungee un supundro ya, oh oh oh,
Khala shundra shundra dee sun gee
Sungee un supu row oh oh oh.

The tune that Ted used was a variant of the one printed here, in fact that was how he recognised his song as being the same one that I had published, however he sang it fairly slowly while Doug Kite had played it in a lively manner, and used it as a dance tune when playing at local functions in Maree.

Sergeant Small or Down and Outback

A song by unknown author
Tune by Brad Tate©Brad Tate 1974








I went broke in western Queensland in Nineteen Thirty One
Nobody would employ me so my swag carrying begun
I came down into Charleville through all the western towns
I was on my way to Roma destination Darling Downs

My pants were getting ragged my boots were getting thin
But when I stopped at Mitchell a goods train shunted in
I heard the whistle blowing and looking out could see
She was on her way to Roma it was quite plain to me

Chorus
I wish I was about twenty stone only seven feet tall
I'd go back to western Queensland and beat up Sergeant Small

Now as I sat and watched her inspiration's seed was sown
I remembered the Government slogan: Here's the railway that you own
By this time the sun was setting and the night was getting nigh
So I gathered my belongings and took her on the fly

When we got into Roma I kept my head down low
I heard a voice say "Any room Mate?" I answered "Plenty Bo"
"Come out of there my noble man" came the voice of Sergeant Small
"I have trapped you very nicely - you've ridden for a fall"

The judge was very kind to me he gave me thirty days
Saying "Maybe this will help to cure your rattler jumping ways"
So if you're down and outback boys I'll tell you what I think
Stay off those Queensland goods trains they're a short cut to the clink

Notes

From Brad Tate's Down and Outback which is also another title for this song. Brad writes "My setting of a poem by Terry Boylan, chorus by Tex Morton. Boylan's verses appeared in the 'Australasian Express' London 1974. Though not connected with Morton's banned Depression song about a NSW policeman, the themes were so familiar I combined them".

It is sung here by Ian White from his 1980s LP "Waiting For the Rain".

trains









banners


Unnatural History

Over the years, life In former times has been committed to poetry on so many occasions that it Is difficult to trace the whole bf this Anthology. The following item is not perhaps poetry, but It dates back to that period of time In the earlier part of this century, when quite a lot of literature was penned on the history of Enginemen and Railway men. The author is shown as 'E.N: 'AUSSIE, 15.1.30'

Engine drivers — Rare birds, dusky plumage. Generally useful. No song; but for a consideration will jump points, signals etc. Have been known to drink freely near the haunts of man — especially at isolated stations. Occasionally intermarry with station-master's daughters (see station masters). Known colloquially by such names as "Hell Fire Jack," "Mad Hector," "Speedy Steve," "Whaler," "Smokebox," and "Bashes" Many poems have been written around the lives of these creatures: notably "The Runaway Train" and "How I drove the Express." Great sports, often carried from their engines suffering from shock — caused by wrong information.

Cleaners — Very little is known regarding the habits of these animals. How the name originated still remains a mystery.

Guards — Fairly common. Red faces. Can go a long time without water. Easily recognisable by their habit of strutting up and down. Shrill whistle, but no sense of time. Sleep between stations, hence common cry of "Up Guards, and at 'em." Serve no generally useful purpose, but can be trained to move light perambulators, keep an eye on unescorted females, and wave small flags.

Porters — Habits strangely variable. Sometimes seen in great numbers: sometimes not at all. Much attracted by small bright objects. No song, but have been known to hum — between trains. Naturally indolent, but will carry heavy weights if treated rightly (i.e. sufficiently). Natural
enemies of passengers (which see). Treated with contempt by station-masters (which see)

Station Masters — Lordly - Brilliant plumage. Rarely leave their nests. Ardent sitters. Most naturalists state these birds have no song, but Railway Commissioners dispute this. Have been known to eat porters (which see). Female offspring occasionally intermarry with very fast Engine drivers.

Repair Gangs — Plumage nondescript. Migratory in habit. Nests are conspicuous and usually found in clusters near railway lines. No song but passengers assert their plaintive echoing cry of "Pa-p-er" is unmistakable.

Passengers — Very common. Varied plumage. Will stand anything as a rule, but have been known to attack porters (which see). Often kept in captivity under deplorable conditions by ticket inspectors, guards etc. Will greedily and rapidly devour sandwiches and buns under certain (i.e. rotten) conditions. These-birds are harmless when properly treated, and should be encouraged by all nature lovers.

The Railway Paper Hat

Many performers of railway songs poems and music turn to overseas railways Folk Heroes like 'Casey Jones' to create a recognised image that associates them with railways. For those looking for a bona fide Australian impression you might consider the 'Railway Paper Hat'

An old steam and diesel railway fitter described the background to this hat worn by a range of Australian railway workers over the years:



The Railway Paper Hat

When I first commenced work at the Enfield Loco Roundhouse in the days of steam engines, I was directed by the foreman fitter to introduce myself to the sub-foreman fitter of the section in which I was to commence duties. Having located the section and the sub-foreman I was asked a few routine questions, and then I was instructed to work with a senior fitter who would help me to get established. As I walked away with the other chap, the 'subby' called after me 'The work is dirty, do you know how to make a paper hat'. Surprised, I said 'No', 'The boys will show you!' 'was the answer, and the first chore on the railway became the job of making paper hats. Thus I was introduced to a form of headgear that I came to recognise as a standard part of working attire by many employees.

Paper hats were generally made from used daily papers, the Daily Telegraph was standard size for more normal heads, while the Sydney Morning Herald was more suitable for big heads.

Although other types of paper were also used, some people made their hats out of stiff brown paper, glued or stapled, wire clipped or held firmly together with a couple of split pins. Austere types wore their hats 'Square on' and depending on personality so the angle altered, more rakish angles denoted confidence, 'Chip on the shoulder' types etc. Those with a flair for colour often made them out of the colored comics in the Sunday papers.

Whatever the style, manner of wear, or type of paper, the paper hat has survived the years and no doubt will continue into the future as a cheap way of keeping the head warm, free from dirt and grease from the jobs, as well as providing a source of hilarity for the general public when they see a couple of railwaymen on a station in a busy peak period, lugging along tools, proceeding along the platform to carry out repairs or other emergency duties.

The Paper hat was much easier than a felt hat to tear up and throw away in times of complete frustration and disgust brought about by a job that wouldn’t go right, and the supreme insult was to snatch another person’s hat and tear it up or set fire to it!

From a Folklore interview with Don Barry retired railway fitter DELEC Railway Yard NSW 1984

Railway Anecdotes and Stories

Australian Railway Anecdotes
Australian Railway Stories


Dear Brian,
Your mail reminded me that I read your brochure (also passed some on) and intended to give you some memories of my Dad, Vic Oehm and his experiences of living in Clarence and Lithgow areas at the time the Zig-zag was running and shortly after....
Regards
Vivienne Sawyer NSW

Railway Song and Poems

Australian Railway Songs, Poems and Tunes

About this Research Archive Brian Dunnett (2007)          Trains Of Treasure Exhibition Posters (30)

see Ken Robertson's CDs of 80 Train Songs
see also Eastern Torres Strait Islander Songs

a) From various sources


83 Ordinary People
150 Hiney-Monoosh
The 5603 or Death Where is Thy Sting
A Ballad of the Rail  (1909)
A Navvy's Swan-Song (1915)
A Call From Gallipoli (1915)
A Hobo Retires (1939)
The Ace Driver
A Parson's in the Camp (1935)
A Railway Ballad (1858)
A Railway Concert (1930)
A Song of the Railway Town
The Afghan's Song
A Union Man
Adelaide Tram Cars (1884)
All Along The Belgrave Line
At The Railway Station
An All-right Railway Man (1903)
Australian Navvies on the Line (1912)
Bagatelles
The Bagman's Farewell
Banjo Bill
The Battler's Ballad
Bide A Wee Bit
Big Green 38 
Billy Sheehan
Blame the Railways (1924)
Bloke in the Jacky Howe
The Border Town Railway
Brake, Brake, Brake
The Broken Hill Port Pirie Line
Bring Back the Bloody Train
Bullocky Bill and His Old Red Team
Cane Train
Caws From Crowland
Coal Train
The Collingwood Railway
The Coombell Railway Smash
Come With Me Dancing'
Do Your Duty, Do it Well
Don't Close The Depot Down
Down and Outback
The Dying Fettler
The Dying Railway Commissioner
The Dying Sleeper Cutter
The End of the Line
The Engine Driver
Engine Driver's Epitaph
The Engine Drivers
English Imitations (1860)
The Eyesight Test. His Last Trip!
Farewell Old Pal
February
Fettling On The Line
Flying Gang
For the Fields (1894)
From a Railway Carriage (1885)
From the Train
Gallopin' Out
The Geelong-Melbourne-Railway Polka
The Ghan
The Ghan
The Gippsland Railway
The Glenbrook Train Smash
The Good Time Coming (1858)
Goulwatown Ride
The Gowrie Junction Smash
Grand-Dad (1917)
The Granville Disaster
The Granville Incident
Hands Off Cessnock Trains
Hides–The Toughest of the Tough
The Hobo's Song (1939)
Home On The Comet
The Hotel Tout (1902)
How Do the Numbers Go? (1930s)
How I Took The Bait (1933)
Hundred Year Old Dream
Hi-ya NESOWARA
I Met Her on the Railway (1856)
I'm Going Back to Graft (1890)
I Met Her on the Railway
The Illawarra Flyer
Illusions
In Midland Where The Trains Go By
Indian Pacific
The Iron Steed
Is the Track Clear ?
Jeames of Buckley Square – A Heligy (1850)
Jimmy Shearer (1899)
John Bull's Locomotive Leg (1846)
The Launceston And Deloraine Railway
Lay of the Navvy (1872)
The Leave Train
The Lights of Gladstone
Little Pig 400
The Lonely Fettlers (1940)
Making the Grade
The Men on the Road
Midland Railway Workshops
Missing Mates
Morning and Night
The Moss Vale Train
Mount Morgan
Moving, Shifting (1938)
My New Career Path
Napean River Song (2001)
The Navvies "strike" with horrid din
The Navvies
The Navvies (2)
The Navvy Crew
The Navvy (1903)
The Navvy (1911)
The Navvy (1927)
Navvy Jack (1911)
The Navvy On The Line
The Navvy's Shovel (1913)

The Navvies' Lament (1918)
The Navvy Volunteer (1917)
The Newcastle Flyer
The Night Operator (1893)
The Night Ride
The Northcliffe Line
The North-South Railway
The Northern Comet (1942)
The Northern Mail
Not Your Sky
Oh, The Mountains
The Old Bush Workers
The Old Chum's Musings
Old Ninety Seven ...
On the Gundagai Line - Railway Bum Ballad
On The Night Train
On Retirement
Only a Navvy (1889)
Our Railway Men
Our Track!
Overtime
The People’s Asset
The Pickers' Train
Phillis on the Railway
Platform Humlet – Percy Grainger
The Poison Train
The Poolers
Rambling Thoughts
Rail and Road
The Railway
The Railway Buffet Sandwich
The Railway Chi-yikes
The Railway Crossing
The Railway Hotel
Railway Line
The Railway Phantom
Railway Poet - Weird Work
The Railway Question
Railway Rhymes
Railway's Comin' Through
Railway to the Sky
Railways 1846
Red Light
Riding on the Rail
Ridin' On The Fruit Train
Rose Days
Salute to the Paddle Wheels
The Scab Train
Sergeant Small or Down and Outback
The "Seven Thirty Two"
Short O' My Time
The Singleton Railway Galop (1863)
The Sleeper Cutter (1931)
The Sleeper Cutters (1934)
The Sleeper Cutters Camp
Sleeper Cutting at Baradine
Smithy
Snowy's Joke (1924)
Song of the Engine (1878)
Song of the Engineer (1907)
Song of the Engine Driver (1891)
Songs of the Engine-driver (1907)
Song of the Engine Man (1908)
Song of the Fettler
The Song of the "Hobo" (1917)
Song of the Locomotive (1901)
The Song of the Midnight Express (1931)
The Song of the Pen (1907)
The Song of the Pick and Shovel (1915)
The Song of The Old Rail-Motor
The Song of the Railway League (1863)
The Song of the Railway Train (1933)
Song of the Signalman (1885)
The Song of Steam (1850)
Song of the Strike of 1917 (1917)
Sound Sleepers (1922)
The Squatters' Dirge (1883)
The Staff Clerk's Lament (1918)
Steam (1905)
Steam's Up!
The Sunshine Disaster
The Sydney Train (1930)
To The Railway Strikers (1903)
The Tramway Men (1910)
Tram-Car Song (1905)
Three Rivers Hotel (1970)
TOOT for the Future - Trains On Our Tracks!
Toronto
The Traffic Manager (1903)
The Train (1946)
Train Of Thought 
The Train to Slumber Town (1913)
Train Music: Percy Grainger
Train To Lidcombe
Trains on the brain
Train Song
The Transcontinental (1936)
Two Up And Eleven Down
The Union Rule Book
The Wail of the Railway Ham Sandwich (1885)
The Warren Railway (1909)
Water To The Trenches
The Wearin' o' The Badge (1912)
Werris Creek All Tickets Please
The Wheel On Steel: A Line To Darwin
When Do We Get The Rise?
When the Coal Blew Away
When we Get the Railway up to Kurrajong (1902)
The Whistle of a Train (1939)
The Wild Beaudesert Train
With My Navvy Boots On
Wolgan Valley Ghost Train
The Women of the West
Workless
The Wreck of the North West Mail
The Wreck of the Thallon Mail
Your Tool Box will be Raffled By and By
Yurin Kabi - Juldigabi 
The Zig Zag Railway

b) From Railway Ballads by "Daybreak" (Published 1913, Burnie Tasmania)

The Balfour Railway

c) Selected Verse by Chas. J. Franklin

Over The Fence
"The Militant Group"
The Loco Lament

d) Verse of Frank Brown

Billy Lappin
A Railway Porter's Job
Eastwood Fatality
Engine 1174
The Engine Driver's Soliloquy
The Final Failure's Dream
The Fireman’s Lament
"Lest We Forget"
Lithgow Barracks Attendant
Realised Ambitions
The Retired Railwaymen's Reunion
The Springwood Smash
T.M.D.
The Wreck of the Rodney

e) From the Trains of Treasure CD

2nd Class Wait Here
3801
The Ballad Of Janet Oakden
Beside A Railway Line
Comrade Fettler
Empty Rails
Eveleigh
Farewell To Steam
For The Company Underground
The Gates Of 23
Hard Road
He Understood
The Jilted Engine Driver
The Navvies
The New Exhibits
Number Twenty-Two
On The Queensland Railway Lines
The Paymaster
Railway Kids
Railway Widow's Blues
Sergeant Small
The Shunter
The Sydney Railway Waltz
The Sandy Hollow Line
The Sleeper Cutters' Camp
The Perth To Adelaide Trooper
Trains Of Treasure
Train Trip To Guilford
Tweed And Lismore
The Workman's Square Deal
The Woy Woy Workers Train


The Navvy On The Line

I'm nipper I’m a ripper
I'm a Navvy on the line
I get four and twenty bob a week besides my overtime
All the ladies love the navvies
And the ladies love the fun
There’ll be plenty little babies when the railways done.

Some like the girls who are slender in the waist
Other like the girls who are pretty in the face
But give me the girl who will take it in her fist
And shove it right home in the cuckoo’s nest.

Traditional

(Add Music score)

Goolwatown Ride


Words to Goolwatown Ride by Andrea Thomas of Port Elliot Public School South Australia.
Tune of Morning Town Ride by the Seekers


We celebrate Australia's First Public Railway,
Back in 1854 150 years today

Chorus
Rockin' Rollin', Ridin' from many miles away
Train sent from Goolwa Town, to Port at Horseshoe Bay

Horses pulled the carriages, people and goods on board,
Goolwa town was booming-a perfect river port.

Cargo could now travel in such a shorter time.
Grain and wool and passengers, could all go down the line.

We celebrate our Heritage, it's such a special day
The train sent from Goolwa town...to Port Elliot, Horseshoe Bay

Notes

Despite the fact that the steam railway age was well underway in Britain by early 1820’s the South Australian Government decided to build a horse drawn railway at the mouth of the Murray River in 1850

Children from the Port Elliot Public School recalled the event 150 years later in 2005.

Add Music Score

Railway's Comin' Through










Well the railway's fin'lly comin' through,
There'll be no more inns on the road,
Yes the railway's fin'lly comin' through
The bullocky will lose his whole load

Locomotive Number 3203
It's a-rollin' down the track,
It'll take you into town, to the mountains and the sea,
It'll take you all the way, it'll get you back.

Rooty Hill, Mount Druitt, Blacktown and Penrith too,
They've all grown up with the rail,
Out on the Richmond line the train's a-steamin' through,
Bringin' passengers, goods 'n' mail.

Ironbark forests are feeding these tracks
Saw mills workin' furiously
Local fruit pickers got sweat on their backs
Their boss has now new found prosperity

Well the railway's fin'lly comin' through,
There'll be no more inns on the road,
Yes the railway's fin'lly comin' through
The bullocky will lose his whole load

(Copyright 2001 John Hospodaryk)

Hundred Year Old Dream

A Song by Doug Fudge©2003 Doug Fudge

It’s been one hundred years in the dreaming
From the first time it was planned
From Adelaide Concrete canyons
Across the Central Desert’s sands
Through the tropical Top End
The Railway tracks run free
From the Great Australian Bight
To the Arafura Sea.

Chorus:
G’day Australia how are you travelling
I’m travelling along on silver wings
Crossing a continent following a dream
My heart starting to sing.

Leaving platform Adelaide through a green and fertile plain
Up to Port Augusta rides the rhythm of the train
Coffee in the club car bright sunset indigo night
Night time on the ‘Ghan train silver soft moonlight
Crossing the Fink River the McDonnell Rangers up ahead
Through the gaps to Alice yes the Centre is still red
Riding North to Tennant then on to Katherine
Gliding into Darwin Town on this new bold railway

A hundred rears to dream it now it unites our land
North and south black and white built by willing hands
United proud we stand divided we will fail
Our country and one people joined together by this rail

Note

'This song is my five minutes of fame. It won a song writing competition. For years the federal and state governments promised Territorians an all year weather free rail link. It finally happened after one hundred years of talk. The last frontier (the N.T.) is no more!!'

The Ghan

I've got a ticket if you've got the time
Take a little trip on the narrow gauge line
Time's a runnin' out, better do it while you can
Come along with me and take a trip on the Ghan

We're leaving Port Augusta for the sunshine
We're heading north to see what we can find
It's just a dream to leave it all behind me
It's something that's been always on my mind

Lizard in the sun, emu on the plain
In the shimmering tracks of the quarter mile train
Camel in the distance seen it all before
And the dream time legends, like the cockatoos, soar

We're crossing Oodnadatta for The Alice
Finke River rising, we'll be here all day
So it's tea and biscuits 'round the old goanna
While story tellers pass the time away

------- Break ------

I've got a ticket if you've got the time
Take a little trip on the narrow gauge line
Time's a runnin' out, better do it while you can
Come along with me and take a trip on the Ghan

It's just a legend, now the rails are empty
It's come and gone, like the Northern summer rain
A photograph is all the old girl left me
But the memory of the quarter mile train remains

Rob Fairbairn 1983
Score to be added

The Granville Disaster

The early morning train from Mt. Victoria,
Heading for the city and the grime
But no-one was to know that the train
That ran so slow was riding on the Tracks
For the last time.
Answers come to late.

At 8.00 am the train neared Granville Station
And it never made the town
For the Bold Street bridge crashed down
Who’s guilty when a worn out system fails?

The papers greedily took up the story
For any news is entertainment now
“It’s carnage” screamed the press
“How many dead, or can you guess?”
To the mourners does it really matter?

As they cleared away the bodies and the wreckage,
People started asking how and why
But nobody dared name
The ones who shared the blame.

They knew full well that they’d get no reply.
When the public transport network’s in a shambles
When the system’s fifty years out of date
It was the Government’s neglect
That had that poor train wrecked
For so many now these answers come to late.
Tom Bridges

Score to be added

Indian Pacific


From coast to coast by night and day
Hear the clickin' of the wheels,
The hummin' of the diesel
On her ribbons of steel;
Carryin' the mem'ries
Of a nation built by hand,
See the Indian Pacific span the land.

She's the pride of all the railway men
'Cross country where she flies,
From the blue Pacific waters
To where the mountains rise;
By lakes and wide brown rivers,
Through desert country dry,
See the Indian Pacific passin' by.

Chorus:
Oh, the Indian Pacific
She goes rollin' down the track,
Five thousand miles to travel,
Before she's there and back.

Beside the line a drover waves
His battered old grey hat,
And kids are catchin' yabbies
Down by the river flat,
And a woman hangs her washing
In the backyard near the line,
As the Indian Pacific's rollin' by.

Hear the whistle blowin' lonely
'Neath the Nullarbor starlight,
Salutin' those who walked across
The track she rides tonight;
Callin' to the railway camp
And the fettlers on the line,
I'm the Indian Pacific right on time.

From the silver of the Broken Hill
To old Kalgoorlie gold,
She mirrors all the colours
Of a land so hard and old;
Then the western flowers are blooming,
And the air is just like wine,
And the Indian Pacific's makin' time.

Last chorus:

Oh, the Indian Pacific
She goes rollin' down the track,
Five thousand miles to travel,
Before she's there and back.
From the waters of the western sea
To the eastern ocean sand,
The Indian Pacific spans the land.
Oh, the Indian Pacific spans the land.

(Words and music by Joy McKean) Sung here by Slim Dusty

The Poison Train

A Song by Michael O'Rourke

This old town has had its day, all the people moved away,
And the houses standing empty in the dry and dusty day.
No-one cares for this old town, now the money's not around
And the railway lines are rusty and the station's falling down.

Chorus:
There's a light down the line.
Let it shine, shine, let it shine.
There's a camp down the way.
All the fettlers will be coming home today.

When the railway opened here, all the gutters flowed with beer
And the people stood beside the line to watch and wave and cheer.
All the speeches that were made, when the bosses smiled and said
The good times are just beginning, follow us and you'll go ahead.

Well they built the street so wide, it would be a thing of pride
To walk across it drunk or throw a stone to the other side.
And the building grew so tall, you would tremble at their fall,
But they just dried out and you'd never know there was any one there at all.

I can hear the tall man say to the children at their play
You'd better go home early and you'd better stay away.
Stay away from the line, can't you hear the railway humming,
The grass has grown too tall and the poison train is coming.

You feel sorry for the grass, all it did was grow too fast
All the weapons raised against it, it was never made to last
And the man and his offsider are all dressed in black
As the poison train goes through the town and blisters all the track.

Well it never lasted long, half the town was packed and gone,
And everybody was afraid to be left there alone.
All the people stayed away, and there was no celebration,
And nobody made a speech the day they closed down the railway.

Score to be added

Cane Train

Midnight shift on a Monday evening - hurry from the barracks to the loco shed,
Pouring rain and black as treacle, wish that I could stay in bed.
Past the arc lights down by the sand shed, down by the ash pits waiting in the rain,
Afternoon shift running late, boys, listen to the rattle of the old cane train.
Listen to the noise of a distant loco rattle over paddocks like a Gatling gun,
Number 6 coming over the river, boys, pounding in the cutting with a hundred ton.

In through the mill-yards slowing for the weigh bridge, drops a load coals up & then
Fills the tender up with water - home go the afternoon shift men.
Off to the yard to pick up empties, counting trucks in the pouring rain,
Hurricane lamp on the end of the rake then back to the engine of the old cane train.
Listen to the noise of a distant loco rattle in the dark like a Gatling gun,
Number 6 with a rake of empties heads for the river and the Daradgee run.

Out from the mill yard, slow at the crossing, open the regulator, stretch her out,
Tender first through the soaking darkness, safety hissing while the drivers shout.
Over the river bridge, through the cuttings, eyes all squinted at the driving rain,
Shovelling coal in the white-hot firebox - flying along on the old cane train.
Listen to the hiss of the old cane loco, shunts a load, gets ready and then
Leaves the rest of the rake in the loop line – thirty seven empties down to Portion 10.

Back to the main line, pulling out full trucks, rain so thick you can hardly see,
Dump ‘em in the loop and pick up the empties, then head north for Daradgee.
Past the blacked out farms and barracks, Victory Creek and the Milky Pine,
Listen to the beat of the old cane loco hauling trucks on the Daradgee Line.
Hear the roar of the old cane loco battle through the rain down the Daradgee track,
Clang! as the fireman shovels on the coal now - rattle of the drivers and the steam valves clack.

Stop for the crossing at the pub at Garradunga, catch points over the Government line,
Shunt the loop, deliver the empties, watery glare where the street lamps shine.
Homeward bound with a load of cane trucks, picking up the rest of the rakes as we go,
Over the bridge, across the water, open her out and listen to her go!
Hear the thunder of the old steam loco waking the echoes as she hammers up the hill
Over the crossing, round the schoolhouse, bringing back the cane to the Goondi Mill -
Bringing back the cane to the Goondi Mill.

Well, no more steam, they're using diesels, no more firebox - white hot glare,
No more water in the joggling gauge glass, no more smoke on the morning air.
Yet I bet some nights the shift men waiting hear that ghostly whistle sound,
Hear the beat of the racing drivers pounding over the sodden ground.
Hear the sound of the old steam loco, faint and far like a distant gun,
As the old time steamies echo in the memory - bringing home the cane from the Daradgee run,
Bringing home the cane from the Daradgee run.

Words & Music: Bill Scott
© 1990 Restless Music
Score to be added

Home On The Comet

There’s a train heading out of the station
And it’s bound for town where I was born
Across the shunting track,
Through the city black
The cramped compartment stretches wide and gives a view.

Now we’ve reached the mountains and we slow for another stop,
A pie with sauce, and a drink at the railway shop.
Close your eyes
As the engine steams and sighs
Glance at the girls on the platform, who smile with eyes forlorn.

Settle back, hear the railway whistle blowing
See your reflection in the rising of the dawn

Then it’s out of the hills and into the plains beyond,
Stations that you wink and you blink and they are gone.
Emus running, bush ballerinas
Flounce their skirts, as we go by.
Old man Kangaroo, he’s advancing too
Watch his legs now, across the sky.

Then it’s the town, just past the railway tank,
Three kids and a dog, five houses a pub and a bank.
Willow, Peppertree, Mulga, Coolabah
Salvation Jane on the salt bush plain
Everlasting wink, May Mitchell’s drink,
The bush is soft and still, in the morning rain.

The cows drift on by like clouds across the sky,
I close my book, that I’ve read all day.
The hills of home are near
My eyes are wide and clear,
There’s the creek, where I used to play.

There’s a Train, heading into the station,
Into the town where I was born.
There’s my Mum & Dad
Come to meet their son,
A kiss and a hug, and I’m home once more.

(John Broomhall 1/3/84)
Score to be added

To The Railway Strikers (1903)

A poem by J.K. McDougall©J.K. McDougall 1903

Railway men, on strike today,
Toss aside your gods of clay,
Freedom, smiling, points the way
Out of slavery;
Toilers of a sweater State,
Calmly front the fools that prate,
Let them, red with rage and hate,
Spue their knavery.

Let cold Dagon cackle law,
Till he kinks his regal jaw;
He would cut your shoulders raw
With the despot whips
That his rebel kindred knew,
Who for something counted true,
Felt the blood-sweat torture drew,
Freeze on martyred lips.

Tyrant souled and backward bred,
Let him, till his hand is red,
Throttle and throw out the dead-
Give him rope and bolt;
While he stands with studied frown,
See him prem from bush and town,
Servile scabs to trample down
Manhood's last revolt.

First in Mammon's pirate van,
He with thieves in conclave plan
How to trap the working man.
By a legal cheat;
Heartless as a beast that thrives
On the sap of weaker lives,
He by subtle shifts contrives
Justice to defeat.

Callous as a fiend that leers,
He has laid the land in tears,
Ruined men and wrecked careers,
Tyrants to excel;
Boosted-but a schemer prime,
He shall pass, and ribald Time
Will, with pertinence sublime,
Carve his name in hell.

You have struck -the tale has spread-
Run your engines into shed;
" Stopped- the wheels," the Torles said ;
" Flouted God and law;
Spat defiance at the Crown,
Sacked the country, starved the town,
Turned the nation upside down,
Fighting for a straw!"

Bloated Midas in the street,
Whimpers to his fellow cheat;
Pilferers and parsons meet -
Woeful is their wail;
Judas, from his lair enticed,
Draws and quarters Labor's Christ,
Markets Labor, tagged, and priced-
Blood and bone for sale.

Some will write you down for gold;
Some will trim and some will scold;
But for principle you hold,
Stand forever true;
Mammon's bloodhounds dog your heels:
Barter, at his market, squeals;
Commerce, thwarted in his deals,
Calls a curse on you.

At the sordid shrines of Trade,
See your rulers, devil paid,
Selling youth and tender maid,
Sweated slaves to be;
See the rich in court and hall,
Forging fetters for you all,
Chains to drag and yokes to gall,
Bars to bind the free.

Hear the barristers in court
Briefed to serve the robber sort,
Damn with question and retort.
Causes that you plead;
Perjured bosses of the press,
Taunt you in your dire distress,
Slander you and truth suppress,
In your hour of need.

Will you longer suffer dumb,
And, while Moloch beats the drum,
See your driven children come,
Cattle to be slain?
Will you make each girl a drab,
And each boy a perjured scab?
Will you mount on carven slab,
Fratricides like Cain?

Lo, each wife - a beggar she-
Pale with care and slavery,
Children wail about her knee,
Famishing for bread;
Guarding them from hungry graves,
In the foetid slum she slaves,
God of pity, how she craves
Pow'r to have them fed!

You are doomed by letters dread,
Bent and Hell behind you tread,
If they vanquish – look ahead,
Slavery the terms;
Freedom's honor still endures;
Thrust aside the doubt that lures;
Glory's chance to-day is yours -
Win - or yield like worms.

Thugs who hold you yet in awe,
Subtle chains about you draw,
Making it, before the law,
Felony to strike;
Chartered libertines of trade,
First themselves to fake and raid;
Deftly always they evade
Statutes they dislike.

Till the evil days depart,
Watch and foil the despot's art,
One in principle and heart -
One in unity;
Face the wrath of Mammon's tribes,
Scorn the fool who taunts and gibes,
Set above the gold of bribes,
God and Liberty.

Lift the Labor banner high,
Shake its stars against the sky,
Freemen, give your battle-cry,
Cheer your flag unfurled;
Put the hand to Labor's plough,
Set the crown on Labor's brow,
Labor's cause is godlike now,
Labor rules the world.

Notes

This poem was published in a collection THE TREND OF THE AGES AND OTHER VERSES By J.K. McDougall Labor Call Print, Patrick Street, Melbourne, 1922

Eight years after the poem was written the pensions and compensation rights of the strikers were restored:–
Bairnsdale Advertiser and Tambo and Omeo Chronicle Sat 7 Oct 1911  p. 3.




RESTORATION OF PENSIONS.
In the Assembly, this afternoon, Mr. A. A. Billson, Minister of Railways, moved a motion restoring pensions and compensation rights to the strikers who participated in the railway strike of 1903. There are 308 men affected by the motion, and the sum involved is £101,795. This amount will be spread
over one year, and not paid in a lump sum.

After the motion had been passed members on both sides of the House congratulated the Government on endeavoring to obliterate all memory of the unhappy strike.


The Wild Beaudesert Train



Some bards have sung the isles of Greece and some the summer rain,
Fill high the cup with wine! I sing the wild Beaudesert train!
Some sing the gees and Ascot course and some the spring’s sweet reign;
But I, in keenest wine, I pledge the wild Beaudesert train.

Behind us drops the smoky town, the pubs, the City Tower.
We thunder out to Dutton Park in under half an hour.
Tonight we seek no amber ale, nor cause to boil the billy
As limned in fire and black with smoke we rear through Yeerongpilly.

And now we yank the throttles wide, the furnace fires gleam
As Cooper’s Plains goes flashing past a phantom in a dream;
The metals sing an angry song, the clanking pistons strain,
And cowering people cry, ‘Behold! The wild Beaudesert train!’

We take on corn at Waterford and logs at Logan Village,
Lord knows what at Cedar Grove, and crops of Woodhill tillage.
Now wilder, wilder grows the pace as drunk with speed and power
We thunder round the Veresoak Bend at seven miles an hour.

Black smoke leaps belching from our stack, a roar affrights the ear
And far across the blue-gum flats pale farmers blanch with fear.
And darkies sing their babes to sleep with threatening refrain,
‘By Cripes! He come and gobble you, that wild Beaudesert train!’

But crowd on canvas! Stock her up! For winged Gods are here;
We pass the sawmill like a streak, a sort of smoky bear,
The wheels fly off, the boiler tubes are busted up and broke,
We dash into Beaudesert town a storm of flame and smoke.

And still the grey-beards tell the tale, and swear by all the powers
We made the run from Melbourne Street in under seven hours!
Yea down the years they hand the yarn and chant the wild refrain,
‘By George, those days ‘twas hard to beat the wild Beaudesert train!’

Notes

Discovered pasted on the wall of his bedroom when staying near Lamington National Park in Queensland by Garry Tooth, an original member of the Moreton Bay Bush Music Society. Garry set it to The Lachlan Tigers tune.

Train To Lidcombe

A Song by John Dengate©John Dengate
Tune: Garden where the praties grow.

Chorus:
You can talk of Matthew Flinders, you can talk of Captain Sturt,
You can rave about explorers till your throat begins to hurt.
Yes, I know they crossed the oceans and they travelled tough terrain
But there's none of them could face a trip to Lidcombe on the train.

'Twas a blazing day in January, Nineteen Eighty-two,
They were praying for a Southerly from Lithgow to the 'Loo;
I cooked from Glebe to Central like a lobster or a crab;
Paid the sweating taxi driver and alighted from the cab.

Platform Eighteen? Platform Nineteen? There's an element of doubt
But you've always got the indicator there to help you out.
And a fellow with a microphone dispensing wisdom free,
But his information and the indicators don't agree.

Well the train crawls out of Central to a soft ironic cheer,
I'd sell my mother's wedding ring for half a glass of beer.
I'm hot and in the horrors and my thirst is looming large
And I fear that every pub we pass is only a mirage.

Faces to the westward, we are sizzling on the grill
We have to wait for half an hour at Summer bloody Hill,
We stop and start like Murphy's cart - my temper's turning sour -
And near Flemington we have to wait another half an hour.

I stagger out at Lidcombe contemplating suicide;
My compass it has melted and my camels they have died.
My fevered brain surrounds the train with breweries and stills,
And bleaching on the platform are the bones of Burke and Wills.

Notes

Score to be added

Ridin' On The Fruit Train

When I was young I used to wait down by the railway gates,
And when the fruit train came along I’d jump on with me mates.
The drivers knew our faces, and they’d let us shovel coal,
But the coal would end up on the plate – we’d miss the firebox hole.

Chorus:
Cottonvale, Fleurbaix, Pozieres, Bullecourt and Passchendaele,
Baupaume, Messines and Amiens on the 42 pound rail,
For 12 miles and 25 chains through orchards, scrub and pines,
Ridin’ on the fruit train on the Amiens branch line.

We’d pass the golden orchards, and we’d whistle through the pines.
There used to be six sidings, but now they’ve closed the line.
There’s not a trace of track from Amiens to Cottonvale,
But I remember golden days on the 42 pound rail.

(Words: Penny Davies, Music: Roger Ilott
© 1997 Restless Music) Score to be added

On The Night Train

A poem by Henry Lawson 1922
Set to music by Chris Kempster

Have you seen the bush by moonlight, from the train, go running by?
Blackened log and stump and sapling, ghostly trees all dead and dry:
Here a patch of glassy water; there a glimpse of mystic sky?
Have you heard the still voice calling - yet so warm, and yet so cold:
I'm the Mother-Bush that bore you! Come to me when you are old?

Did you see the Bush below you sweeping darkly to the Range,
All unchanged and all unchanging, yet so very old and strange!
While you thought in softened anger ofthe things that did estrange?
(Did you hear the Bush a-calling, when your heart was young and bold
I'm the Mother-Bush that nursed you; come to me when you are old?)

In the cutting, in the tunnel, out of sight of stack or shed,
Have you heard the grey Bush calling from the pine-ridge overhead:
YouYou have seen the seas and cities; all is cold to you, or dead -
All seems done and all seems told - but the grey-light turns to gold!
I'm the Mother-Bush that loves you; come to me now you are old`?



(Henry Lawson) Score to be added

Train Song

(Taken from real live experiences of kids on trains and a particular little boy who does have trains on the brain")

"Stand Clear! Doors Closing! Next stop Parramatta!

(to the rhythm of the train)

I got trains on the brain... Mummy daddy let me explain
I just want to ride on a train..! got trains on the brain.

I want to go for a ride on the train. I want to go for a ride on the train.
Roll along the railway track to the countryside & back. I want to....

Hey! We're going for a ride on the train. Hey! We're going for a ride on the train
Won't you come along with me. There's so many things to see when we're going for ...

Oh! We're waiting at the station for the train. Oh! We're waiting at the station for the train.
Got our tickets we're on time. Wait behind the yellow line. Oh! We're....

Now we're moving from the station on the train. Now we're moving from the station on the train
See us fly along the track all the way to town & back. Now we're moving.....

I want to get a window seat on the train. I want to get a window seat on the train.
Keep our head and hands inside and we'll have a safer ride. I want.....

Oh! It's safe and clean and cool on the train and there's lots of room to move on the train.
Far away from noisy roads where the smells get up your nose. It's safe and .....

It'll be a quicker trip on the train. In the car we stop & go & stop & go &stop & etc.......again
The traffic is so slow. We have to wait till green says GO! It'll be a.......

Hey! We're climbing up the hill on the train. We're climbing up the hill on the train.
We're climbing up the hill. Just like Jack and Jill. We're climbing up the hill on the train.

We're flying down the hill on the train. We're flying down the hill on the train
Trees and houses zooming past. Hey! tills train can go so fast. We're flying....

Hey! Daddy! There's a freight train on the track, with eighty loaded coal trucks on its back.
Little engine must be strong to pull those heavy trucks along. Look Daddy there's a coal...

OoH! we're going through the tunnel on the train. We're going through the tunnel on the train.
Someone turned out the light. Everything's as black as night. We're going...

Eeeee! We're going across the bridge on the train. We're going across the bridge on the train
Lots of water under us

I don't want the ride to finish on the train. I don't want the ride to finish on the
Mummy promised us we won't have to get the bus
I don't want the ride to finish on the train.

© Margaret Bradford

Score to be added

The Pickers’ Train

Luis, Luigi and Mary Lou
Tom Dick and Harriet Dimitri too
Standing on the platform in the Melbourne rain
Waiting to join the Pickers’ Train
Cuban crisis Bay of Pigs
Dimitri’s handing out the cigs
Anything’s better than the old dole queue
Says Luis to Mary Lou

Hit Mildura in the early morn
15 nations in the bleary morn
Sign language in the station yard
Striking a deal was not too hard
Year after year the same pickers came
Blockies called out their family names
Batista Marotta how you going old son
Hands were shaken and a deal was done

Pietro sat me on his knee
He taught me the Italian for 1,2,3
His wife was sick they wouldn’t let her go
So she and the kids were in Palermo
Pietro taught me to ride a bike
He taught me what true friendship’s like
Picking and spending that time with me
Meant cash to send to his family

Rita lived on the picking trail
She’d follow the harvest around by rail
She could pick faster than any man could
So Rick fetched the buckets like a good man should
Who’ll forget the day their child was born
Rita was picking next day at dawn
The baby’s in a cradle at the end of the row
She’d feed the kid and then on she’d go

Saturday night and the picking’s done
Time for a dance and a bit of fun
Waltzing kissing rock and roll
Until the drinking took its toll
Then it’s back to Melbourne for another year
Say Goodbye maybe shed a tear
Arrange to meet same place again
See you next year on The Pickers’ Train

Score to be added

When the Coal Blew Away

A song by Maurie Mulheron ©Maurie Mulheron 1996

Do you know how heavy the winds blow here?
His smile was rising from ear to ear
The old miner sat back, he'd a story that day
About the time on the coast when the coal blew away

All the mines around Bulli and further away
Were being worked each week for only two to three days
Just enough to stop them from getting the dole
While the mine-owners secretly stockpiled the coal

Chorus
The winds were so heavy on the coast that day
The winds were so heavy that the coal blew away!

So the miners formed a strong picket line
To try and stop the coal from leaving the mine
From Sydney they trucked in the scabs each day
With police on guard to keep the miners at bay

With scabs loading coal by the railway track
The miners stepped forward, the mood blacker than black
The sergeant stood between them with a gun and a sneer
I'll shoot the first Commie who tries to interfere!

Chorus
The winds were so heavy on the coast that day
The winds were so heavy that the coal blew away!

A fifty ton load was sent on its way
Scheduled for Sydney the very next day
The miners withdrew, full of anger, despair
No victory this time, no hope in the air

The train slowed down just near Waterfall
The guard heard laughter and this is what he saw
From a wagon some miners jumped onto the track
With shovels, grins and faces smeared black

Chorus
The winds were so heavy on the coast that day
The winds were so heavy that the coal blew away!

With his lantern he searched up and down the train
No coal could be seen, he searched in vain
And the headlines in the paper read the very next day
The winds were so heavy, the coal blew away!

Now as you listen to my story today
You might think it strange that coal could blow away
But the miners with their shovels in the wagon that night
Swear it is true and I reckon they're right

Chorus
The winds were so heavy on the coast that day
The winds were so heavy that the coal blew away!

Notes

Maurie Mulheron writes
"Great true story about a union victory down here in the Illawarra that occurred in September 1938 at the Old Corn Beef Mine. The story is told in the song. After the scabs had loaded the coal, 8 miners stowed away on the train and spent the next couple of hours shovelling out the scab coal onto the track as the train headed north to Sydney. The next day, when the police investigated, the Miners Federation explained to them that they knew nothing about the missing coal. By way of explanation, the union suggested that it could have been the heavy winds that had blown the night before! The "Bulli Times" ran a headline: "THE COAL THAT BLEW AWAY". By the way, after the coal had been shovelled off the train by the 'stowaway' miners, the Detective-Sergeant raced down to Thirroul the next day to interview the miners. An astute fellow, he visited Arthur McDonald, one of the miners. "Don't insult my intelligence," said the policeman, "by trying to make me believe that the bloody wind on the South Coast blew all that coal away. We think you bastards did it."

The Battler's Ballad

You are just a lonely battler,
And you’re waiting for a rattler,
And you wish to heaven you were never born;
For you ran to dodge a copper
And you came a dreadful cropper,
And the skin on both your hands, is cut and torn.

Chorus:
So hey-ho hobo,
you are just a rolling stone,
Even though you’re stony broke,
If you can still laugh and joke,
You’re as good as any king upon his throne.

You are tired and you are weary
With your eyes bloodshot and bleary,
And the soles of both your shoes are worn right through;
Your heart is sore and aching
And your back is nearly breaking,
And your coat and shirt and pants have had it too.

With fury you are boiling
But your muscles need no oiling,
As you duck to dodge the headlight’s brilliant glare;
For you’ve seen the copper’s wood-heap
And you know he’s got a good heap
And you know the tucker’s not the best in there,

Then the engine gives a whistle
And you step upon a thistle,
And get tangled up in signal wires and points;
Next you blunder in a gutter
And angrily you mutter,
Strike me lucky, well of all the joints!

Then you see the green light flashing’
An’ you hear the bumpers crashin’
And you see the great big engine rushing by;
With your swag held at the ready
Your nerves are not so steady,
For you know you’ve got to take her on the fly.

Then your swag you try to throw in
But the flamin’ thing won’t go in,
Bounces off the truck and hits you as you fall;
Pick the remnants of your swag up
Pick your billycan and bag up,
And you say, I missed the bastard after all!

Final Chorus:
So he-ho hobo,
you are just a rolling stone,
Though the skies are mighty grey,
There will surely come a day,
When you’ll own a bloody railway of your own.

Notes

Composed by Jack Weight of Coogee NSW, this song was collected by folklorist Alan Scott.
This 1930s Depression song reminds us of the battlers code "never inform, never rat, never steal from your mates"
Music score 
Vonnie Clearsky 1985 Matilda's Mob one of several versions


Water To The Trenches

A song by Steve Barnes©2002 Steve Barnes

Born in eighteen hundred and ninety nine
You lived to the great old age of a hundred and three
As a boy you went to war on a godforsaken shore
To shoot at Christ knows who at Gallipoli
In sight of the Turkish lines, in range of the guns you climbed
To carry water to the trenches every day

You made it through, you were one of the lucky ones
Came home with a bellyfull of rage
You joined a railway gang, became a Union man
And fought for decent hours and a living wage
You stood for the working man, took the Union stand
And carried water to the trenches every day

Chorus:
Water to the trenches
Water to the trenches
Water to the trenches
Every day

They buried you with all the pomp and splendour
And talked about those few weeks of your life
No one made the point that the battle that you joined
Was bigger far than some colonial strife
How easy they forget that once they called you a Red
As you carried water to the trenches all your life

Water to the trenches
Water to the trenches
Water to the trenches
All your life

(Bridge)

Alec Campbell, my hat's off to you
But now you're gone it's time we moved on too
To carry water to the trenches...
For each other

Notes

Written about Railway Tasmanian Unionist and last Anzac. Alec Campbell.

Smithy

When I was a lad many years ago
How the smithy's furnace used to glow
And the sweat on our foreheads used to gleam -
Back in the good old days of steam!

A man was a man, and he knew his trade
And the destination of the parts he made.
We worked together as a well-oiled team,
Back in the good old days of steam!

Well, I don't know much, but I know best
That we've gone backwards as we've progressed.
There's chaos all around, yet still I dream
Of those days before the railways ran out of steam ...

(from lyrics by P.P. Cranney music score to add