ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

Going through a book of poems from 1915 and have come across a few unusual words,

1) Fantods presume from the text they are the visions one sees when experiencing the DT's

2) Ramp and tin, think to do with gold mining
"We beats about upon the ramp
And does up all our tin"

Any more info appreciated.

Off to Yass tomorrow for the Turning Wave

G/day Peter,
The second one,
I'm a prospector but haven't come across that before; wonder if it could be about Tin scratching, they used sluice it and then bag it up.
Any idea how old the saying is, I'm sure someone will know?

Terry

Thanks Terry, the poet (J P Bourke) died in 1914

The "does up all our tin" line seems to refer to him and his mate spending all their money on grog.
If that were the case the ramp may be the bar.
He was from Western Australia, maybe that explains it.

Probably Tothersiders giving us sandgropers a bad name Peter,
by the way what's the name of the poem?

Terry

The reference to - tin- back in them there days, was certainly money.

G'day Peter,

I agree with Terry, There was good money to be made in tin right up to the 1980s. I worked of about six and a half years from late 1989, for a firm that recovered the tin from scrap tinplate. The industry fell apart around
92/93 because of free lance, open cut tin mining in South America. Every man and their dog was scratching little patches of tin and selling it really cheaply. Although it was a way for those poor (and I mean financially poor) people to better themselves, it put several smelters and recoverers out of business, world wide. The price of tin dropped drastically in the time I worked there. By the end it was only about 1/8 of when I started. The firm however were able to stay in business because Bluescope were obliged to de-tin all their scrap. They then returned both the steel and the tin to their on-going processes.

Yes, Zondrae . . I know also a lot of the smaller tin miners up here at that time (the 80's) found the rising cost of diesel made it financially unviable.

There's still plenty of tin around here - besides the financial side we're fringing world heritage listed country, and tin mining is (as a mate of mine so laconically puts it) basically "blowing up the earth and washing it away".

Marty

Terry, The poem is called "We Took The Pledge Till May"

Just home from the Turning Wave Festival at Yass, one of the highlights was an impromptu performance of "Mulga Bill's Bicycle" with Robyn Sykes beginning the verse before the stage was invaded by Mulga Bill ( Greg North) complete with a child's toy bike, shame we didn't have a video.

G'day All

I managed to find a copy of the text on the web for those who would like to read it (Should be well and truly out of copyright).

Regards


John Peel


WE TOOK THE PLEDGE TILL MAY
JP Bourke

DAVE BARKER is a mate of mine,
A solid mate and chum,
And when we're out upon the wine
I guess we make things hum:

We go the pace all fair and square,
But rapid, I'll allow;
And start from well, just anywhere,
And wind up anyhow.

When Dave and me's out on the loose
We follers close and keen,
And samples every kind of juice
From rum to kerosene.

It's all good fish comes to our net,
To Barker's net and mine,
And our intentions are, you bet !
Most strictly genuwine.

We beats about upon the ramp,
And does up all our tin;
Then Dave well, Dave strikes out for camp,
And I well, I jines in.

And then the panoramy starts
The queerest kind of fakes
Fat little blokes and smaller tarts,
And funny bob-tailed snakes.

And presently, a big galoot
Drops down the chimbly flue,
And takin' up Dave's blucher boot,
Sez, ' ' Lads ! Here 's luck to you ! ' '

But all the time it's bilin' hot,
And, spare me (crimson) days!
You never heerd such blanky rot
As what them fantods says.

Well, comin' on this last old year,
I sez to David B.,
"Old chap, we pays a lot too dear
These fan-tod fakes ter see.

We grafts and grinds and stints our grub,
But if we socked our rent
We soon could buy a blanky pub,
Or stand for Parlyment.

"What say to puttin' in the peg?
Swear off, old man! what say?"
Sez Dave, "I'm on we'll spike the keg
Fer good and all, till May."

And then our two right hands we clasps
The 'greement fer to bind;
And felt like them there "Army" chaps
Wot's left all sin behind.

If any tries to pull our leg
This coming Hogmanay
We'll shout, "No, no! we've driv' the peg
Home flush and fast till May."

Well, Dave and me, we saunters down
Along the bloomin' street,
And every 'quaintance in the town
'Ud want to stand us treat.

They'd pull and press, and chaff and beg,
Till 't last we'd break away,
A-shoutin' "No! we've spiked the keg
No booze for us, till May!"

Well, Dave, he comes from Aberdeen,
And Sandy Mac. was tight:
Sez Mac., "Old Scotland's hills are green!
One drink on Scotia's night?"

Then Dave he looks acrost at me,
And I looks 'crost at Dave
It allus after seemed to be
A kind of mootual "cave."

For Barker sidles to'rds the bar:
"A whisky from the bin,"
Sez he, "my gay young Lochinvar!"
And I well, I chimes in.
 
That was a night we drank and stept,
And joined the Scotchy's lilt,
Till all the rest were drunk or slept,
And all the casks a-tilt.

Then, as we staggered home at four,
It was a sight ter see
A-troopin' from our "rubby" door
Our fan-tod familee!

They tended on us jest like kings,
And darnced around the bunk,
And seemed, the 'fectionate little things,
So glad to see us drunk !

One smilin' dwarf with flowin' beard,
He sang (as sure as sin)
The sweetest song you ever heerd
"Our dad's kem home agin!"

And you may all take this from me,
For gorspel truth to-day
The best way to injy a spree
Is, Take the pledge till May.

Hi Peter,
It was certainly a Mulga Bill to remember... some of the audience thought we may have scripted it!
A great weekend in Yass.
Regards
Robyn