It's just about one year ago,
As near as I can guess,
Since last I trod old Sydney streets,
In sorrow and distress.
I'd squandered all my wealth away,
Misfortune had controlled,
But still a voice sung in my ear
Bright Tambaroora gold.
Chorus:
I've travelled for experience,
And oftentimes been sold,
But they don't get over Charley, or
His Tambaroora gold.
It's true I had seen better days,
Although I stood in rags;
My boots were all to pieces, and
My trousers patched with bags;
My friends and sweethearts slighted me,
And gave me turnips cold,
So I thought I'd try my luck amongst
The Tambaroora gold.
Chorus
The day I left old Sydney
A tear fell from my eye,
For amongst all my kind friends there was
Not one would say good bye.
But I on my journey staggered, till
At last I did behold
The hills that brightly glittered with
Bright Tambaroora gold.
Chorus
I had not long been on the field
Before I got a job,
And worked three months on wages for
A chap called "Dusty Bob"
By this a claim I purchased, and,
In turning up the mould,
My pile was soon created with
Bright Tambaroora gold.
Chorus
Then back I came to Sydney,
A regular dashing swell;
Then, strange to say, my previous foes
All seemed to wish me well -
Politely bowed and touched their hats,
As up the street I bowled;
And the girls got shook on Charley, with
The Tambaroora gold
Chorus
And ever since that very day
I've been a happy man,
For they treat me as a King or Prince,
And pet me all they can.
The ‘forties" kindly greet me, and
The "Bobbies", brave and bold -
They'd like to "touch" proud Charley for
His Tambaroora gold.
Chorus
Last week I was invited out.
I went — it was to lunch —
With a cove who thought to hocus me,
And make a jolly "punch".
Said he,"Come, Charley, try some schnapps,"
Said I, "Yes, so I'm told,
But you don't this time snap Charley, or
His Tambaroora gold".
Chorus
The other day I chanced to meet
Miss Angelina Vawn,
Who once gave me cold turnips, when
She found my money gone.
Said she, "Come to my bosom, Charles,
We lovers were of old."
But I know she loved not Charley,
But his Tambaroora gold.
Chorus
The other night I took a walk
Down by Prince Alfred Park,
(And I'm always on my guard, you know,
Especially after dark),
And there a cove rushed out at me,
As cautiously I strolled.
"Bail up!" cried he, 'and hand me out
Your Tambaroora gold."
Chorus:
I've paid for my experience, &c
I on to him flew like a bird,
And seized him by the wool,
And dashed him in the gutter, and
He bellowed like a bull.
He cried in sad confusion, as
He in the gutter rolled,
"Oh spare my life, the devil take
Your Tambaroora gold."
Notes
The Sydney Morning Herald places Frank the Poet working with a gold mining team at Tambaroora in 1853, and the evidence given by his friend of eight years at the Mudgee coroner's enquiry in 1861 suggests MacNamara made considerable money from the gold diggings in Tambaroora. Was this song written by him? or about him?
The Heritage Newsletter of the Blue Mountains Association of Cultural Heritage Organisations March - April 2010 has an article by John Low suggesting that this song was written by Katoomba identity, Harry Peckman, known as 'The Blue Mountains Poet' and shows an original broadside by 'Harry Peckman, Hartley'.
