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Pilbara desert, your gold it is waiting,
It's weeks since the colour I've seen....
....But Jimmy the prospector he was another,
For the plains around Roebourne was bound.
Oh hark the dogs are barking, my love I must away
The men are all a-waiting, and no longer can I stay.
For I am bound for camp my love- 'tis many a mile to go
To meet my fellow bushmen on the banks of the Waikato.
Nga wai a Murrumbigee
Y' kin gedder job in Seedney or gedder job up north
But y'kentin Cootamundra though y'try fer all yer worth...
...Oh but it's hard, cruel and cold
Searching Kiandra for nuggets of gold
An ounce to the bucket and we'll all sell our souls
For a taste of the Rum and Raspberry
And the band played Now Is The Hour...
There's a track winding back
To my nikau-covered shack
Along the road to Jackson's Bay.
Where the rimu trees are growing,
The Arawata's flowing
On every rainy day.
It's a first-rate business section
Where four bush roads cross and meet
It stands in a neat and quiet direction
To rest the weary traveller's feet
One Sunday morning as I went walking
By Gisborne waters I chanced to stray
I heard a farmer his fate lamenting
As in the rainy dipping tank he lay:
"I am a native of old New Zealand
And covered now in my native mud
I'll find that bloody ram that pushed me
And when I do, you will see some blood." *
* "Poverty Bay" was recently rediscovered by Richard Mills in his family's archives. Thanks Richard.
There'd been a drought for weeks and weeks: the wells and tanks were dry.
No water flowed along the creeks, we had no town-supply.
The blazing sun, without relent, turned all the green to brown -
Imagine our predicament, the day the pub burned down.
Score = % And if you must peep at the answers, they are at the bottom of this page,If your browser is set for Java script.
Happy Christmas from John, Lynn & Rowan
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