Get all 8 Margaret Walters releases available on Bandcamp and save 15%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Steadfast, Yarri Of Wiradjuri, Power In A Song, Pack O' Pirates, Who Was Here, Pithead in the Fern, The Sea and the Soil, and For The Future And The Past.
1. |
Newell Highway
02:26
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Awake before the dawn within the spires of range
Where magpies ornate melodies
Engrave the chilly morning breeze
Beneath the towering stone,
Beneath the towering stone
On nights of silver moon too rich to waste on sleep
In silence make your way to seek
The choirs of frogs in swamp and creek
That sing beneath the stars,
That sing beneath the stars
Out on the western plain beside the roaring road
Where trucks snarl by without a care
Are billabongs with ibis there
And wedge-tailed eagles soar,
And wedge-tailed eagles soar
All you who love the earth
And make her ways your choice
Cry out against the noise of trade,
Demand that silence should be made
So that all might hear her voice
Her ancient, matchless voice
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2. |
Kilroy was Here
03:01
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Who was here
When they handed out the heavy jobs
Jobs with the hammer, the pick and shovel
Who choked in the foundry, froze in the fish docks
Eight days to the week?
Who was here with a mile of rock above him
Three-foot seam in the darkness crouching
Stinging sweat in his eyes,
Powdered rock in his spittle
One hundred minutes to the hour?
Who was here in the furrowed fields crouched over
Pain shapes the question in bone and muscle
Roots and hands competing, fumbling, groping
Twenty-eight hours to the day?
Who was here in a world of steam and clamour
Feeding Leviathan in his cavern
Tasting the hot, sharp stink of metal
Six weeks to the month?
Hey there, dogsbody, what do they call you?
Who cleans up the mess when the fighting's over?
Who carries the broom the mop and the bucket
Thirty-six months to the year?
Smooth-faced, old-boy men instructed him
Geldings programmed his energy
Coached in running by men
Whose arches had fallen
Dead men taught him how to live
Kilroy, Kilroy, where has Kilroy gone?
Kilroy was here, see there's his mark
He came this way, he was wearing his number
Did no one see him pass?
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3. |
Harley Dinosaur
03:31
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'Twas at the Murrumbateman tip when no one was about,
A giant egg lay in the sun and a dinosaur hatched out.
The only creature 'round the place, an ancient mother sheep,
Adopted him at once instead of the lamb she failed to keep.
She called him Harley Davidson, her baby dinosaur,
From a picture in a magazine she'd seen some days before,
She sang him Sheep May Safely Graze and Baa Baa Black Sheep
Until her young triceratops was safely fast asleep.
Chorus:
And it's oh my! you never saw before
Such a thumping great triceratops
Like Harley Dinosaur!
Now in the paddock by the tip young Harley grew and fed
And by three weeks had overtopped his mother by a head.
And soon some forty head of sheep and half a dozen rams
Saw one bright, young triceratops at play among the lambs.
But springtime brings the shearing. the crutching and the like
Of the sorts of things they do to sheep to keep down blowfly strike,
And so one worthy grazier, by name of Thomas Scroggs,
Set out upon his motorbike and with him four sheep dogs.
The Honda roared across the land with rattles, thumps and bangs,
When Harley heard the racket, something ancient bared its fangs,
And as the sheep in panic tear all fled in leaps and bounds,
A fully grown triceratops slood up to face the hounds.
Now Blue and Dolly, Bill and Meg were sheepdogs of the best,
Prize winners all though they might be. they'd never faced this test.
"Get in behind" cried Farmer Scroggs, his face a wrathful frown,
So in behind the log they got and kept their heads well down.
At this the farmer's face went red, he said a nasty word,
And revved his motorcycle round to catch that fleeing herd.
But Harley charged that mean machine his great feet squashed it flat
He chased the farmer up a tree. and that, my friends, was that.
And so we leave good Farmer Scroggs, his features turning black
His sheep behind their dinosaur can laugh at all attack
I'll leave his dogs behind their log and terminate my rhyme
By saying "Harley Davidson beats Hondas, every time!"
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4. |
Railway Widow's Blues
02:51
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Come all you women, hear me complain,
Don't mix with a man who drives a train
Or you'll be sorry, you'll be blue
Every time a train goes through.
You pack his crib the night before,
He's up and eating by half-past four
It's still pitch dark when he shuts the door
And you hear his train go through
Many the night you lie and dream
Of how you and him could raise some steam
Shunting and coupling to and fro,
Pull the regulator till the steam valves blow
But you're all alone at the break of day
With your man two hundred miles away
It's a barracks' shift so he's bound to stay
Till another train goes through
The right of way's just out the back
Where the coal-train Garratts rumble up the track,
Dropping soot and cinders till your washing's black
Every time a train goes through.
That man of mine, he's proud and tall,
Moves his body like a cannonball
But he's off before dawn at the shift-boy's call
And another train goes through
Oh, he'll be back in another day.
But you can't build dreams on a hogger's pay
And when he's back home, how a girl could weep,
It's food and bath and twelve hours sleep.
So come all you women, hear me complain,
Don't mess with those fellas who drive the train
You'll be so sorry, you'll be so blue
Every time a train goes through,
Every time a train goes through
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5. |
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On a cold Kaikoura morning
When drizzle draped the land in grey,
And darker grey the headland loomed
Where surf thumped, snarling up the bay,
A gull flashed silver over rocks
Fringed with white lace
Where the kelp beds heaved,
And beauty lived in the drab and dark
Without a flash of colour relieved.
The station faced a shingle beach
And hung and dripped with gentle rain.
I heard the pulsing diesel song
That spoke the coming of the train.
The screaming of a single gull
Drifted across where the breakers roll,
The loco hooter's soft reply,
The echo of a common soul.
And who was Charlie Johnston then?
Did Vernon Willis leave a wife?
How did Robert Kitto die,
And Roy Frank Chapman yield his life?
They were not seen at Alamein,
Bill O' Connell faced no gun,
John Turich's hands worked iron and rock,
Alongside Oscar Cottington.
With pick and crowbar, maul and axe,
Through beetling crags swept by the tide,
hey drove the railway down the coast,
As working men they lived and died.
The Wharenui track runs through
Great tunnels within the ocean's sound,
Hewn through the cliffs in nature's spite
For their memorial, look around.
And I look upon my people's work
And wonder at my pride and pain,
The thump of seas a counterpoint,
Beside the rumbling of the train.
The majesty of stone and rain,
The whisper of the ocean's breath,
All say more than the mind can hold,
This balancing of life and death.
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6. |
The Bergen
03:09
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Sleep, why d'you wake me with these dreams you bring
* Dreams came to me where I lay *
And deep the melody the wild waves sing
*And my love is far, far away *
Oh and pity the hearts the wild waves part
My love sails the bonny barque the Bergen
They heap their nets upon the decks by light...
And creep out gentle at the dead of night...
They reap a harvest from a cold night's sea...
It leaps with the herring 'neath his decks for me...
But steep waves rise above his cold bare head...
Oh, keep him safe to lie here in my bed...
It weeps with rain tonight where my love lies...
Oh, sweep the foreign sand from out his eyes...
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7. |
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Oh, when I was a boy in Carlingford all sixty years ago.
The eucalypts grew straight and tall and the creeks did sweetly flow.
But times were hard when the old man died and the orchard would not pay
So I left the land for the factory bench and I'm working there still today.
I have earned my bread in the metal shops for forty years and more
My hands are hard and acid-scared as the boards on the workshop floor
My soul is sheathed in Kembla steel and my eyelids have turned to brass
And the orchard's gone, and the apple trees where the wind whispered through the grass.
The workbench is my altar where I come to take the host
Copper, brass and fine sheet steel - Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
The sacramental wine of work grows sour upon my tongue
Oh, the fruit was sweet on the apple trees when my brothers and I were young.
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8. |
Piper on the Hilltop
04:42
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Ir's a hot December evening
And there's herald of a change
In the mighty clouds that roll above
The Brindabella Range
Chorus:
There's a piper on the hilltop
By the supermarket square
And his pibroch falls like sunset clouds
Above the city air
The chattering of kids at play,
The sullen roar of cars
The thunder of a jet plane's flight
Above the rising stars
I sit beside my window
And I listen to the town
And an aching air, an old lament,
Like mist comes drifting down
Then Spence gives way to Glencoe,
Bonny Charlie's at Dunbar
And the "Flowers of the Forest".
They all are gone awa'
A breeze disturbs the silent leaves
Rolling thunder brings the change
With the pibroch for Belconnen Town
By the Brindabella Range
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9. |
Telford's Bridge
04:54
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Her age might be forty, though wrinkles tell lies
And long years of labour are drawn in her eyes
She puffs her old pipe, leaning outboard to see
Where Telford's great bridge spans the vale of the Dee.
Her husband's asleep in his close, narrow bed,
After 15 hard hours, he could scarce raise his head,
It's seventy feet from the helm to the bow,
She leans to the tiller, it's her turn right now.
Chorus:
So butter some bread, Sally, brew us some tea,
For it's cold on old Telford's Bridge over the Dee.
It's a fine narrowboat that she handles with skill
On the Shropshire Canal as it weaves through the hills,
With coal for Llangollen, or roof slates for Chirk,
Three children to manage and long hours of work.
Her Sally's below brewing tea hot and strong.
If she's owt like her ma, she'll be courting e'er long.
Aye, then there'd be childer before you could know,
And small enough room in the cuddy below.
(Chorus)
She's painted the buckets with rich love and care,
Wild roses and castles run riotous there,
But there's no time for fantasy, dreams & such stuff
For the cut's narrowed down to the Bridge's lean trough
The aqueduct's channel is seven feet wide,
With a stout iron rail on the broad towpath side,
On the off side there's nothing, no shelter at all,
She steers from the hatchway, 3 feet from the fall.
The Dee's foaming waters roar distant below
The wind up the valley will bluster and blow,
And six-year-old Ted sits up high on the horse,
But she's seen it before & she steers a true course.
(Chorus)
Captain, the Clydesdale, bows his noble mane,
And plods proudly on through the fierce scuds of rain,
The towline curves upward, wind-snatched to the lee,
And ninety-five tons rides high over the Dee.
The steam engine's coming, or so she's been told,
But she'd not trade old Captain for all the Queen's gold,
And there's Tom a-waking, he'll soon want his tea,
Where Telford's great bridge spans the vale of the Dee.
(Chorus)
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10. |
Not Scared
02:51
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Now I was watching this mighty show
About aliens on the video,
With tentacles and glowing eyes
And laser guns of humungous size.
There were skeletons and the Walking Dead
When dad came in and he said "Bed!"
Aw, come on dad. that's a bit rough",
But right in the middle, he turned it off.
Chorus:
And I'm not scared! Not scared!
You heard what I said
I'm going to the bathroom
If I can get out of this bed!
They've tucked me in, they've turned out the light,
There's some funny sounds on the street at night,
I'd get my dinosaur, he's real neat,
But what if something grabs my feet?
Really, I'm not scared, there's nothing in the dark
With iron claws and teeth like a shark
There's none of those things & they can't scare me,
But I can't move and I want to have a - drink.
I'm getting out of bed, there's nothing underneath
With bony fingers and long, green teeth,
No snakes, no spiders creeping down the wall,
Why can't l move if there's nothing there at all?
My tummy's really aching and that's no joke.
I shouldn't have chocolate after fizzy coke,
No vampires flying across the moon,
But this bed'll be wet if I don't move soon.
Aaaahh! Mum's getting up, the passage is lit,
l can get up too and have that - drink,
Tomorrow's Halloween, if the weather's fine,
I'm going Trick or Treat dressed as Frankenstein
ThereTil be werewolves, witches and their cats,
Ghosts and ghouls and vampire bats,
Some folk are in for a terrible fright,
But I'm keeping my torch in bed tomorrow night
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11. |
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We came trom California
like a locust plague in flight.
We tell upon the landscape
and we changed it overnight.
Chorus:
Gold. Gold. Gold!
The pale horse follows in the path of gold.
Cities opened up like flowers
were the gold rose like the sun
But the day failed of its promise
we left ghost towns and moved on.
We won our weath and drank it
Our roots too weak to hold
Those who made their pile and settled
strove for other things than gold.
Like gallows traps lurk mineshafts
wherever we have been,
Tailing dumps and mullock heaps
stand useless and obscene.
We travelled fast as rumour,
We were months ahead of law,
We were grief to the Dakota,
to the Maori we were war.
We brought death and dispossession
where we cradled, sluiced and panned,
The Chinese and the Koories
Felt the old Grey Riders hand.
From the mangroves by the Palmer,
to Kiandra's kiling cold.
Sacramento to Cardrona
saw the landscape torn for gold.
But you'll not find our memory
among the slagheaps in the bush
Our ghosts ride with the pale horse
to the hopeless cry of "Rush!
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12. |
William Conquest Turland
03:25
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I'm William Conquest Turland and when I was young and bold.
left old Market Harborough to mine Australian gold.
I saw the rebel banner hoist, the fight at Ballarat,
And I loved and married Hannah in the town of Lambing Flat.
| forged the picks, I shoed the hacks, I laboured in the heat,
My Hannah bore two children, we thought our joy complete,
Then gold was found at Grenfell, the Lachlan side Norwest,
And so, like fools drawn to a snare, we followed with the rest.
But fever took the children, their skins were clammy wet.
It turned like iron in the heart to hear them moan and fret.
We washed them, cooled them, prayed for them and ached to hear their cries,
At length, a sullen silence fell and the bitter drone of flies.
I dug two graves beside the creek where old Dick's bridge now stands,
And I can still feel Hannah's grasp a-trembling in my hands,
The road ahead holds children, home and labour, land and friend,
But I held Hannah, sobbing hard, where one road found its end.
So let the Lachlan keep its gold or others make their pile.
We'll go no further down this track, but tend their graves the while,
For earth can yield no fairer prize, however rich the lode.
Than the wealth we gave back to the soil along the Grenfell road.
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13. |
Empire Hotel
03:26
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Early one morning I stood in Walhalla
By the Empire Hotel at the break of the day.
And somewhere upstairs there were two lovers talking.
So softly I listened to what they did say.
Why are you stirring, my darling, my dearie?
It's dark even now and the moon sheds no beam.
I've just heard the footstep of Coker. the fireman.
He's off to the minehead to start raising steam.
Why are you rising, my fine, lusty lover,
Surely there's hours till the break of the day?
Shake off the wine from your last night's carousing
And look through the window, the light it is grey.
Why are you dressing your warm, shapely body?
Sliding up garters and lacing your stays?
The room's to be cleaning. the beds to be making.
And both of us working like all other days.
As the sun rose, I was still in Walhalla
Beside that hotel above cold Stringers Creek
Charmed by the words of those two secret lovers.
I drew even closer to where they did speak
Where are my trousers, my boots and my jacket,
Where is my wallet, you sour-faced whore?
Your wallet's right here till you've paid for your pleasure,
Your clothes, where you left them, right there on the floor.
The hooter is sounding, the skips will be rolling
And soon the gold batteries will rattle the ground.
If you're late again, they will fire you this time
If you're out of cash, then you needn't come round.
You're a slut! You're a thief! Christ, a man must be senseless
To waste all his money on drink and a whore!
An hour ago I was "darling" and "dearie"
And I'll wager this evening you'll be back for more.
Well, here's thirty pieces of my hard-earned silver
The last evening's money I'm wasting on you.
The loss is your own, of both silver and pleasure,
If one man does not, many others can do.
And when he had gone out the door in a flurry.
She drew from the bedside her old chamber pot,
Out of the window, she emptied the contents,
I was listening below and collected the lot.
Hark to the eavesdropper cursing at morning,
Don't sniff too long at his curious smell,
But from his cruel fortune take heed and take warning.
Don't listen to lovers at the Empire Hotel.
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14. |
The Outside Track
04:38
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There were ten of us there on the moonlit quay
and one on the for'ard hatch;
No straighter man to his mates than he
had ever said: "Lend us a match"
'Twill be long, old man, ere our glasses clink,
'twill be long ere we grasp your hand!
And we dragged him ashore for a final drink,
till the whole wide world seemed grand.
Chorus:
For they marry and go as the world rolls back,
they marry and vanish and die;
But their spirit shall live on the outside track,
as long as the years go by.
The port-lights glowed in the morning mist
that rolled from the waters green;
And over the railing, we grasped his fist
as the dark tide came between.
We cheered the captain and cheered the crew
and our mate, times out of mind;
We cheered the land he was going to
and the land he had left behind.
We roared Lang Syne as a last farewell
but my heart seemed out of joint
I well remember the hush that fell
when the steamer passed the point.
We drifted home through the public bars,
we were ten times less by one
Who had sailed out under the morning stars,
and under the rising sun.
And one by one, and two by two,
they have sailed from the wharf since then;
I have said good-bye to the last I knew,
the last of the careless men,
And I can't but think that the times we had
were the best times after all,
As I turn aside with a lonely glass
and drink to the bar-room wall.
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15. |
I Will Stand Fast
03:32
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The echos of childhood whisper violence
* Cold winds beating out of the past *
Rage in your throat, muffled silence
* Hold on, I will stand fast.*
In the darkness, your guardians had left you ...
None to hear your cries, none to defend you ...
Chorus:
I will stand fast, I will stand fast,
You are safe in the daylight at last
Nightmare and fear, they have no power here
I will stand fast.
I will listen to the terrors that tried you ...
will cradle the child that breathes inside you ...
Though you take the shape of a hundred ancient horrors ...
Though you strike at me and flee into your sorrow ...
Birds flash upon a branch in winter ...
lce in the sun begins to splinter ...
You will walk with no fetters to bind you ...
All the love you have wanted will find you ...
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Margaret Walters Sydney, Australia
Rock solid, Margaret's voice is right where it needs to be, whether delivering a clarion call for social justice, a tender lullaby, a lively or poignant folk tale, an uplifting hymn to Mother Earth, a rousing work song of the yardarm or an up-yours from a feisty lass. Margaret usually sings unaccompanied, favouring the folk tradition and some select contemporary writers. ... more
Margaret Walters recommends:
Crossing the Line
by Forty Degrees South
Our most recent collection of sea-themed songs from the Southern Oceans.
go to album
Life Of Brine
by The Roaring Forties
Before the Tiktok shanty craze, there was the Roaring Forties
go to albumIf you like Who Was Here, you may also like:
JESSICA's second album was recorded live solely with vocals and piano.
go to album
Mild Terror / Ice Cave Single
by Jack Sharp
A freaky folk holiday single from the lead guitarist of British psych rockers Wolf People celebrates winter chill.
go to album
LEFT/FOLK VI: The World As It Is
by LEFT/FOLK
Proceeds from this excellent new darkambient/neofolk comp from LEFT/FOLK goes to benefit American Near East Refugee Aid.
go to album
she/her/they/them
by Evan Greer
The singer-songwriter and activist considers the very purposes of protest songs.
go to album
