Portland Recollections & Verse
1851

Portland September 1851

The following production was suggested to me by the circumstance that a few days after the election (between Mr. Moore of Melbourne and Mr Wilkinson of the Guardian), a certain lady, considering herself as belonging to the colonial aristocracy, (she being the underwriter's wife) wrote some doggrel lines, in which she gave a most sweeping denounciation of every person connected with the return of the Liberal Member, Mr. Thomas Wilkinson - stigmatising them as the "lower orders", "common herd of ragamuffins" etc. scarcely one removed from the brute creation. I felt like one inspired, and wrote the following, the first of my poetic effusions ever printed, in which I fairly astonished myself, and all my acquaintances, as well as our opponents, who were heard to declare at an assembly some days afterwards - that they had no idea that the operative classes possessed so much talent - thinking them do doubt mere brutes in human form. I, being at the time a journeyman wheelwright, working every day to support myself and motherless family of little boys. All the words in this production such as Mr. N.T. *, Byass +, Gallie ^, His Reverence Sandy $, have their proper meaning and can be understood in a double sense. * Henry, + Doctor Byass, ^ Mr Gallie (Mr Henty's brother-in-law), $ Mr Alexander Laurie, formerly minister of the Scotch Church, but was expelled for drunkeness and adultery, but for the sake of his wife and family his friends bought him the requisite press and type and set him up as Editor of the "Portland Herald" consequently he was their tool, and had to be obedient to them whatever his own private opinion might have been. W.G.

NO MY FRIENDS NO! PORTLAND Vic. Sep 51

    Hail foes to oppression, and lovers of freedom!
    Your day has arrived, and your power you know:-
    This host of timeservers, I'm sure we don't need them,
    And we'll never support them! O! no, my friends, no!
    Their dodges and shuffles, their threats and persuasions,
    Their schemes and devices so petty and low,
    Has made us determine on all such occasions,
    That we'll never support them; O! no, my friends, no!
    The victory they've lost, after all their endeavours,
    To prop up their system, though now 'tis laid low:-
    We were not to be Gallied ^, young Portland for ever!
    We would not surrender! O! no, my friends, no!
    They may try all they can with their creatures and flunkeys:-
    We'll shout in derision at them as we go:-
    We care not for N.T. * nor his poor abject monkeys;
    And will not support them; O! no, my friends, no!
    Success to our Guardian, our rights he"s protected;
    While his ex Reverence Sandy $ has never done so;
    Being the tool of his Party, our claims he's rejected;
    And shall we support him? O! no, my friends, no!
    "Tag rag and bobtail" as the "Herald" may term us;
    It's place among journals has always been low:-
    Poor driveling rag, let it never concern us;
    Neither let us be Byass'd +. O! no, ny friends, no!
    Poor plate licking dog, let him follow his master,
    With fawning and wagging his tail to and fro;
    Through his growl or his bark we but go ahead faster;
    Then let us not blame him; O! no, my friends, no!
    O, let's not forget this tenth day of September;
    When they thought to o'erawe us, but it was "no go";
    We stood firm to our colors and secured our own Member;
    And shall we repent it? O! no, my friends, no!
    Send the news far and wide by every conveyance;
    Let them know right and left that we've struck the death blow,
    To the clique who kept all real good in abeyance;
    But no Moore shall oppress us, O! no, my friends, no!
    Praise Him by whom Princes and Kings hold their stations;
    Who as Judge of the earth does exalt and bring low:
    Who is ruler supreme over people and nations;
    May we never forsake Him, O! no, my friends, no!
    Long life to our Member! May blessings surround him,
    In every direction, where e'er he may go,
    And those of his foes who would wish to confound him;
    May they never be able; O! no, my friends, no!



The following also refers to the Portland Election.

A few nights after the election some boys, having never seen an election before went round the town electioneering for amusement, but the defeated "Influentials" being exasperated at what they termed the presumption of the tag-rag and bob-tail i.e. the working classes wrote a sort of satire in their clique's paper the "Portland Herald" then edited by Alexander Laurie who had been expelled from the Scotch Church pulpit for drunkenness and adultery. I, not knowing that anyone else would answer it, took the liberty to write the following to the Guardian as an introduction to another letter and song I composed for the occasion and which must have nearly described their feelings at that time; the song also being true to the letter.

To the Editor of the Portland Guardian,

Sir,
As the Herald, (being deeply read in ornithology) has kindly classed us among the jack-daws, magpies, laughing jackasses etc., I beg leave to inform him through your valuable paper that we heartily respond to the epithet bestowed on us; for as the said genus of birds are more or less celebrated for their courage and sagacity in destroying reptiles; so we, I hope, will in due time be placed at the head of the list, for the surprising number of reptiles lately destroyed by us; namely Toadies, scorpions, Bloodsuckers, Croakers, and even the Chameleon, which assumes any color according to circumstances. But we find on examination, that we are not without Larks, Nightingales and others celebrated for their vocal powers, but we utterly desclaim any relation with Vultures, Cormorants etc. thinking it safe to shun their company on account of their thirst for blood, and their propensity for preying on lambs and other defenceless. In fact, we keep no company with any of the crooked bill or crooked claw tribes, such as Lawries and other members of that class. They having a habit of taking a few incoherent words occasionally without knowing right from wrong, but just as they are taught to say.

I have therefore taken the liberty to present the larks etc. with a song to indulge in, called the "Portland Election", in which all the others can join in the chorus, and as I have no gaudy train attached to my tail, being but a bird of ordinary pretentions.

I therefore subscribe myself,
Yours most respectfully,

Bob-tail.

This song is a literal description of proceedings as they occured during the election.

THE PORTLAND ELECTION Air/"The Parson and sucking pig"

1. 'Twas in the year of fifty one; the tenth day of September;
The Electors came all in a band, to vote for their first member.
Two candidates were fixed upon, a little while before,
Our worthy Guardian Wilkinson, and Melbourne, Mr Moore.

Chorus
Now Portlanders a warning take, and mark what now I say.
If you should choose a Melbourne man, you'll ever rue the day.

2. An influential gentleman, and two or three of note,
Went round to several householders, to induce them all to vote.
Some said they would, but some would not, which grieved them very sore,
To think that any had the pluck , to object to Mr Moore.

Chorus - Now Portlanders etc.

3. But by the fierceness of their looks, the timid folks were gally'd,
And those whose names were in their books, around their standard rallied.
So home they went, and went to bed, and soon began to snore,
Ane one cried out while fast asleep, "I'm sure of Mr Moore".

Chorus - Now Portlanders etc.

4. "I don't know who" he * said at last, "has got my logs of cedar". (* Donahue)
This riddle will explain itself, my kind and gentle reader,
A lot of iron-bark there is within a certain store.
We'll palm it on a simpleton, he'll vote for Mr Moore.

Chorus - Now Portlanders etc.

5. Then up he got at early dawn, as fast as he could hasten.
First to his Scotch apostate friend, and then unto the Parson.
"I've not a doubt, the day is ours, the people are but poor",
Me, I am sure they'll not offend. They'll vote for Mr Moore.

Chorus - Now portlanders etc.

6. I've had them all at my command, and still they own my sway,
"I've only to hold up my hand" this gent was heard to say.
"This dashing gallant gentleman, whose person I adore
He will be ours, I need not fear. I'm sure of Mr Moore.

Chorus - Now Portlanders etc.

7. An influential batch of clothes was sent to get a washing.
But in the end, it proved a dose. The woman got a thrashing.
Her husband got into a scot, and black'd her eye full sore,
Because that she had bias'd him to vote for Mr Moore.

Chorus - Now Portlanders etc.

8. Then to the poll both parties went, to tender in their votes.
Some clerks and gents were position'd there to take the people's notes.
The Guardian had the upper hand, and when the clock struck four,
Six votes were short, they lost the day, and lost their Mr Moore.

Chorus - Now Portlanders etc.

9. The gent was in a dreadful fix, and almost tore his hair.
While the Guardian's side gave three loud cheers enough to rend the air
And on their shoulders they did mount, and aloft the palm they bore
Crying "now we've gain'd the victory, farewell to Mr Moore.

Chorus - Now Portlanders etc.

10. The Gent went to the baker's shop, as sullen as a dog.
And just inside the door there stood a humble pedagogue.
The poor old man he did so bounce, some said he curs'd and swore,
Because his work had been in vain - he'd lost his Mr Moore.

Chorus - Now Portlanders etc.

11. "I'll starve you all" he said at last, and stamp'd and shook his head.
"I'll stop your flour, and so cut off your whole supply of bread.
And when your children cry for bread your fate you will deplore",
Saying "O that I could vote again, I'd vote for Mr Moore.

Chorus - Now Portlanders etc.

12. "That independant butcher, too, who fill'd my heart with grief.
I'll stop his gallop very soon, I will not buy his beef,
I will not patronize him, now, but keep him from my door.
His jolly face I'll think upon, whene'er I think on Moore .

Chorus - Now Portlanders etc.

13. Now Portlanders, you're in a fix, but this think you can do.
Stick fast together hand and heart, and none can injure you.
Buy land, and raise your own supplies, and so lay up in store.
Then laugh when you think on the day you would not vote for Moore.

Chorus - Now Portlanders etc.

14. So now I end my simple tale concerning this election.
No thinking man to my advice will raise the least objection.
And when you reap the abundant crops you'll find it no eyesore.
And then you'll keep in mind the day you wouldn't vote for Moore.

Chorus - Now Portlanders etc.

BOB-TAIL




William Gay Main Page | BDGS Home