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Charles Thatcher

The Private Despatch of Captain Bumble of the 40th stationed at Ballarat to His Excellency Sir Charles Hotham

He writes thus to His Excellency;
Myself and Major Stiggings
Go our brave fellows all equipped
And started for the diggings.
Our band struck up God Save the Queen,
Into cheers our men were bursting,
And every gallant soldier was
For glorious action thirsting.

Our first attack was on two drays,
Which we saw in the distance,
But the enemy just surrendered,
After just a slight resistance.
We were disappointed in our search,
Of these two wretched traitors,
For instead of seizing powder,
It was loaded with potatoes.

At length into the diggings,
Footsore our men did tramp there,

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Chinese Immigration

You doubtless read the papers,
And as men of observation,
Of course you watch the progress
Of Chinese immigration--
For thousands of these pigtail chaps
In Adelaide are landing;
And why they let such numbers come
Exceeds my understanding.

On Emerald Hill it now appears
A Joss House they've erected;
And they've got an ugly idol there--
It's just what I expected;
And they offer nice young chickens
Unto this wooden log;
And sometimes with a sucking pig
They go the entire hog.

Now some of you, perhaps, may laugh,
But 'tis my firm opinion,

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The Queer Ways Of Australia

Dick Briggs, a wealthy farmer’s son,
To England lately took a run,
To see his friends, and have some fun,
For he’d been ten years in Australia.
Arrived in England, off he went
To his native village down in Kent—
’Twas there his father drew his rent,
And many happy days he’d spent.
No splendid, fine clothes on had he,
But jumper’n boots up to the knee,
With dirty Sydney ‘cabbage-tree’—
The costume of Australia.

Chorus:
Now when a fellow takes a run
To England for a bit of fun,
He’s sure to ’stonish everyone
With the queer ways of Australia.

Now Dick went home in this array;

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Two Years Ago

The light of other days burns dim,
And in the shade is cast,
You'll own I'm right, if you will just
Look back upon the past;
It's glories all are faded,
And each of you must know
That times ain't what they used to be
About two years ago.

Bendigo, you know, my lads,
Was just then in its prime,
And those who happened to be here
Had a most glorious time;
But now its sadly altered,
And things are precious slow,
And times ain't what they used to be
About two years ago.

They opened Golden Gully then,
And we had many a lob,

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The New-Chum Swell

I’ll sing just now a little song,
For you must understand,
’Tis of a fine young gentleman,
That left his native land—
That bid his ma and pa farewell,
And started brave and bold,
In a ship of fourteen hundred tons,
To come and dig for gold.

He dress was spicy as could be,
His fingers hung with rings,
White waistcoats, black silk pantaloons,
And other stylish things.
His berth was in the cuddy,
Which is on deck, you know,
And all the intermediates
He voted ‘deuced low.’

When the vessel left the London Docks,
Most jovial did he seem;

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