Andrew Barton Paterson

An Evening in Dandaloo

It was while we held our races -- 
Hurdles, sprints and steplechases -- 
Up in Dandaloo, 
That a crowd of Sydney stealers, 
Jockeys, pugilists and spielers 
Brought some horses, real heelers, 
Came and put us through. 
Beat our nags and won our money, 
Made the game by np means funny, 
Made us rather blue; 
When the racing was concluded, 
Of our hard-earned coin denuded 
Dandaloonies sat and brooded 
There in Dandaloo. 

* * * * * 

Night came down on Johnson’s shanty 
Where the grog was no way scanty, 
And a tumult grew 
Till some wild, excited person 
Galloped down the township cursing, 
”Sydney push have mobbed Macpherson, 
Roll up, Dandaloo!” 

Great St Denis! what commotion! 
Like the rush of stormy ocean 
Fiery horsemen flew. 
Dust and smoke and din and rattle, 
Down the street they spurred their cattle 
To the war-cry of the battle, 
”Wade in, Dandaloo!” 

So the boys might have their fight out, 
Johnson blew the bar-room light out, 
Then, in haste, withdrew. 
And in darkness and in doubting 
Raged the conflict and the shouting, 
”Give the Sydney push a clouting, 
Go it, Dandaloo!” 

Jack Macpherson seized a bucket, 
Every head he saw he struck it -- 
Struck in earnest, too; 
And a man from Lower Wattle, 
Whom a shearer tried to throttle, 
Hit out freely with a bottle 
There in Dandaloo. 

Skin and hair were flying thickly, 
When a light was fetched, and quickly 
Brought a fact to view -- 
On the scene of the diversion 
Every single, solid person 
Come along to help Macpherson -- 
All were Dandaloo! 

When the list of slain was tabled -- 
Some were drunk and some disabled -- 
Still we found it true. 
In the darkness and the smother 
We’d been belting one another; 
Jack Macpherson bashed his brother 
There in Dandaloo. 

So we drank, and all departed -- 
How the ”mobbing” yarn was started 
No one ever knew -- 
And the stockmen tell the story 
Of that conflict fierce and gory, 
How he fought for love and glory 
Up in Dandaloo. 

It’s a proverb now, or near it -- 
At the races you can hear it, 
At the dog-fights, too! 
Every shrieking, dancing drover 
As the canines topple over 
Yells applause to Grip or Rover, 
”Give him ’Dandaloo’!” 

And the teamster slowly toiling 
Through the deep black country, soiling 
Wheels and axles, too, 
Lays the whip on Spot and Banker, 
Rouses Tarboy with a flanker -- 
”Redman! Ginger! Heave there! Yank her 
Wade in, Dandaloo!”