Follerin’ Up

Just been moochin’ round the mines lookin’ for “a cop”

Nothin’ doin’ underground, rather less on top

Any sort of graft will do – only want a show

Shovellin’ sand of breakin’ stone, surface or below

Spare me days – but times are tough – hang about the brace

Catch the shift boss comin’ up, take him out a face!

Tell him straight you’re wantin’ toil – ain’t had a bite or sup

For a bloomin’ week he’ll say “keep on follerin’ up”

It’s “Foller’ up” – “Foller – up”, all the time it’s “Follerin’ up”

Chasin’ shifts along the “Mile” all the week and Sunday

That’s the way the game is spelt, empty gut below your belt

Drinkin’ out of sorrow’s cup, we’ll be graftin’ one-day!

Nice old sort of crawlin’ game after years of minin’

Cadge a feed about the block, chaps’ll think you’re whinin’

Go without and snare a job, think you’ll worry through it

First shift – sent on tramp again – got no guts do do it

Start the self same blessed round; surface ‘arf past seven

‘Nother mine at nine o’clock, ‘nother at eleven

Strike the Horseshoe boss at twelve; Boulder’s right at four

Try the ‘hoe and God alone knows how many more

But “Foller up”, “foller up”, only keep on “follerin’ up”

Stacks of toil for every man – no one need be shirkin’

Push your bloomin’ barrow through, hitch your belt a hole or two

Got to graft before we sup – some day we’ll be workin’!

What’s it matter after all? When we’ve played the game

Is it worth what comes to us – either praise or blame?

Draggin’ feet that weigh a ton, sore with treadin’ gravel

(going out and comin’ home’s a different road to travel!)

Scoutin’ round and to and fro, up and down the “Mile”

Trampin’ trudgin’ battlin’ through, is it worth the while?

Chasin’ shifts and thinkin’ thoughts no one cares to utter

While the clankin’ battery’s roar always seems to mutter

Give it up, give it up, what’s the use of “follerin’ up?”

Sick and tired of breastin’ up – what’s the good of questin’?

When we’ve tramped the final round, there’s a “sure cop” underground

We must sleep before before we sup – some day we’ll be restin’

Follerin’ Up: T. Wilson / R. Rummery

The Western Australian goldfields around 1900 had its share of poets – Tom “Crosscut” Wilson was one of them.  “Follerin’ Up” was a term used to describe the daily ritual of many seeking work on the underground mines – literally it meant  “come back and try again tomorrow”.  The tune for this song is Bob Rummery’s.