Collected and edited by Peter Bridge with Gail Dreezens.

Part 3

The origins and spread of the verse and its corollaries widen with research. In The Poet’s Discovery (ed. Jordan and Pierce) MUP, 1990, appears the following which is unfortunately not referenced:-

Scraps from a Bushman’s Note Book

Port Phillip! Land of many wonders;

Land of lightning; land of thunders;

Land of various reptiles evil;

Land of heat would scorch the devil;

Land of every savage vice;

Land of Christian avarice;

Land of emus, kangaroos;

Land of parrots, cockatoos;

Land of pelicans, black swans;

Land of possums and tuans;¹

Land of bandicoots, wild cats;

Land of Platipusses, rabbit rats,²

Land of march flies and mosquitos;

Land of pumpkins and tomatoes;

Land whose various winged tribes

Are yet unsung by learned scribes;

Land of gloomy desolation;

Land of reckless dissipation;

Land of damper, tea, and mutton,

Enough to satiate a glutton;

On damper, mutton, and bohea,³

Poor bushmen fare three times a day.

Land of murderers, burglars, robbers;

Pickpockets, lawyers, and landjobbers.⁴

From every turn my fate directs,

I feel the gloomiest effects-

By day by hosts of flies invaded,

At night by wild dogs serenaded.

[Anon]

¹    Aboriginal name for the flying glider.

²    The jumping mouse or hapalote.

³    Low grade tea.

⁴    Land sharks, who make excessive profits from land speculation.

Land of Promise (in With Malice Aforethought by Bill Wannan.) appears to date from the 1860s.

Land Of Promise

From A.B. Paterson’s collection, Old Bush Songs (1905). Paterson noted: ‘Mr Jordan was sent to England by the Queensland Government in 1858, 1859, and 1860 to lecture on the advantages of immigration, and told the most extraordinary tales about the place.’

Air: Four and Twenty Blackbirds

Now Jordan’s land of promise is the burden of my song.

Perhaps you’ve heard him lecture, and blow about it strong.

To hear him talk you’d think it was a heaven upon earth,

But listen and I’ll tell you now the plain unvarnished truth.

 

Here mutton, beef, and damper are all you’ll get to eat

From Monday morn till Sunday night, all through the blessed week.

And if the flour-bag should run short, then mutton, beef, and tea

Will be your lot, and whether or not, ‘twill have to do, you’ll see.

 

Here snakes and all vile reptiles crawl around you as you walk,

But these you never hear about in Mr Jordan’s talk;

Mosquitoes, too, and sandflies, they will tease you all the night,

And until you get quite colonized you’ll be a pretty sight.

 

Here are boundless plains where it seldom rains, and you’ll maybe die of thirst;

But should you so dispose your bones, you’ll scarcely be the first,

For there’s many a strong and stalwart man come out to make his pile

Who never leaves the fatal shore of this thrice accursed isle.

 

To sum it up in few short words, the place is only fit

For those who were sent out here, for from it they cannot flit.

But any other men who come a living here to try

Will vegetate a little while, and then lie down and die.

The Walkabout of October, 1951 has a version thought to have been written in the 1880s

Land Of Contrarieties

Sir,

Some time ago in a parcel of old books which were sent to me from England I came across these lines. The original ink manuscript is very faded.

The lines probably had their origin in Australia as my mother’s brother married in Australia somewhere about the ‘80’s and I am firmly of the opinion that the original was sent home in a letter, and probably the handwriting is that of my aunt, whom I never saw and who is long since deceased.

 

There is a land in distant seas

Full of all contrarieties.

There beasts have mallards’ bills and legs,

Have spurs like cocks, like hens lay eggs.

There parrots walk upon the ground,

And grass upon the trees is found;

On other trees – another wonder –

Leaves without upper side or under.

There pears you’ll scarce with hatchet cut;

Stones are outside the cherries put;

Swans are not white, but black as soot;

There neither leaf, nor root, nor fruit

Will any christian palate suit;

Unless in desperate need you’ll fill ye

With root of fern and stalk of lily.

There missiles to far distance sent

Come whizzing back from whence they went.

There a voracious eye-sheep crams

Her paunch with flesh of tender lambs;

While ‘stead of bread and beef and broth,

Men feast on many a roasted moth.

There quadrupeds go on two feet

And yet few quadrupeds so fleet;

There birds, although they cannot fly,

In swiftness with the greyhound vie.

With equal wonder you may see

The foxes fly from tree to tree;

And what they value most, so wary,

These foxes in their pockets carry.

The sun when you to face him turn ye

From right to left performs his journey.

The north winds scorch; but when the breeze is

full from the south, why then it freezes.

Now of what place can such strange tales

Be told with truth, but New South Wales.

 

North Perth, W.A. John Allen

Perhaps this from an undated postcard is from the same period. The sentiments appear to have originated long before the rush to Western Australia, as the above and following show:-

The Pommes Farewell

AUSTRALIA! thou art a land of pests,

For flies and fleas one never rests;

E’en now mosquitoes round me revel;

In fact they are the very devil.

Sandflies and hornets just as bad –

They nearly drive a fellow mad.

The scorpion and centipede,

With stinging ants of every breed,

Fever and ague with shakes,

Tarantulas and poisonous snakes;

Iguanas, lizards, cockatoos,

Bushrangers, logs and jackeroos,

Bandicoots and swarms of rats,

Bulldog ants and native cats,

Stunted timber, thirsty plains,

Parched up deserts, scanty rains.

There’s rivers here you can’t sail ships on,

There’s nigger women without shifts on.

There’s humpies, huts, and wooden houses,

And nigger men who don’t wear trousers.

There’s Barcoo rot and sandy blight,

There’s dingoes howling all the night,

There’s curlews’ wails and croaking frogs,

There’s savage blacks and native dogs.

There’s scentless flowers and stinging trees,

There’s poisonous grass and Darling peas,

Which drive the cattle raving mad,

Make sheep and horses just as bad.

And then it never rains in reason –

There’s drought one year and floods next season,

Which sweep the squatter’s sheep away,

And then there is the devil to pay.

To stay in thee, Oh! Land of Mutton!

I would not give a single button.

But bid thee now a long farewell,

Thou scorching, sunburnt land of Hell!

The Bushman’s Farewell To Queensland

There are several versions of this bit of old folklore still in circulation. The present one has been slightly abbreviated, not for reasons of censorship but because it seemed to me boringly over-long.

In With Malice Aforethought, edited by Bill Wannan.

Queensland, thou art a land of pests;

For flies and fleas one never rests.

E’en now mosquitoes round me revel –

In fact they are the very devil.

Sandflies and hornets, just as bad,

they nearly drive a fellow mad;

With scorpion and centipede

And stinging ants of every breed:

Fever and ague, with the shakes,

Tarantulas and poisonous snakes;

Iguanas, lizards, cockatoos,

Bushrangers and jackaroos,

Bandicoots and swarms of rats,

Bulldog ants and native cats;

Stunted timber, thirsty plains,

Parched-up deserts, scanty rains;

There’s rivers here you can’t sail ships on,

There’s native women without shifts on;

There’s humpies, huts, and wooden houses,

And native men who don’t wear trousers;

There’s Barcoo rot and sandy-blight,

There’s dingoes howling all the night;

There’s curlew’s wail, and croaking frogs,

There’s savage blacks and native dogs…

To stay in thee, O land of mutton,

I wouldn’t give a single button,

But bid thee now a long farewell,

Thou scorching, sunburnt land of hell!

From New Zealand, pre World War Two (?) and the pen of the Hon. John Burke O’Brien (?) appears a snippet of our old friend from a swagmans viewpoint. It appears in Roughnecks, Rolling Stones and Rouseabouts by JA Lee, Whitcoulls, 1977.

Whatever else rhymes did, they told fellow travellers where to expect kindness and where not to linger. Rhymes like:-

 

Land of rocks and rabbits too,

Rotten squatter, cockatoo;

Squatter heaven, swagger hell,

Land of rabbits fare thee well.

Who would want to venture on a track after reading such a warning?

And finally perhaps Australian troops took this to Egypt in the wars as a fitting resting place for such abuse. (Kiss Me Goodnight Sergeant Major by Martin Page, 1973):-

Land Of Heat And Sweaty Socks

To the tune of ‘There is a Tavern in the Town’

Land of heat and sweaty socks,

Sin and sand and lots of rocks,

Streets of sorrow, streets of fame,

Streets to which we give no name.

 

Streets of filth and stinking dogs,

Harlots, thieves and festering wogs,

Clouds of choking sand that blinds,

And drives poor airman off their minds.

 

Aching hearts and stinking feet,

Gippo guts and camel meat.

The Arab’s heaven – airmen’s hell.

Land of Pharaohs – FARE THEE WELL.