THE RUSH TO DUNOLLY
(A new original Song, as written and sung by
Charles Thatcher, at the Shamrock, Bendigo)
Tune — Over the water to Charlie
Oh what a great row is kicked up just now;
Strange reports all about here are flying;
New diggings are found, and to rush to the ground
Great numbers of people are dying.
They don't wait to enquire, but seem all on fire;
But to hurry away thus is folly,
For numbers they say come back every day,
And give bad accounts of Dunolly.
At Dunolly we're told there is plenty of gold,
But the job is to know where to strike it.
Forty feet you go down and find you're done brown
When the color ain’t there you don't like it.
A nugget is found, and they rush all the ground,
But lots of 'em look melancholy,
And with hearts full of woe back to Bendigo go
And regret that they went to Dunolly.
Mister Coleman they say went away in a dray,
With his traps and a stunning planner;
But his plans wire all crossed, for his horses he lost
In a most unaccountable manner.
He found them at last but the rain poured down fast;
I assure you he didn’t look jolly;
And his company too all began to look blue,
As they trudged on the road to Dunolly.
I hear on the spot there's a very rum lot;
Grog shops up by hundreds are springing;
Tents where they sell victuals, and places for skittles,
Theatres, and casinos and singing.
If boxing one loves he can put on the gloves
And spar like a brick and be jolly.
And I can tell you there is sticking up too
Every night at the famous Dunolly.
If there you're rambling there are places for gambling,
Where flats are soon eased of their ochre:
It's a regular do if you sit down to loo,
And they nail you like winking at poker.
They go the whole hog, and the gals they sell grog;
There's Jenny and Nelly and Polly;
And as on you they smile hocus you all the while,
That's the dodge that they have at Dunolly.
While there's ground here to pay I advise you to stay;
Your ear to reports don't be giving.
This ancient goldfield still is able to yield
To any poor man a good living.
Rush away if you like it, but if you don't strike it;
You'll have no one to blame for your folly.
When you find you're done wrong you will think of my song
As you trudge slowly back from Dunolly.