(To the strains of Waltzing Matilda)

By: Paul Carew Dec 2000.


Once a Jolly Shooter ca-mped by his Parliament,

Under the shade of the mo-ney tree;

He was there to make a pro-test to keep his trusty shooting irons,

All by him self and alone was he.

Along came the Media and the twits from AGC,

“What ya doin here they said to he?

We don’t want any red necks ca-mped with their shooting irons,

Under the shade of our own money tree;”

Ist Chorus:

“Let’s go hunting lets go a shooting, lets feed our selves,

And defend all our rights;

But he sat and he watched and waited for some mates to help;

All thru the days and all thru the nights.



No one came along to support his brave and manly stand;

No Poli-ticians or Club Presi-dents,

Only the twits from AGC and Med-ia,

Standing around with chardonnay in hands,

2nd Chorus:

Let’s go hunting lets go a shooting, lets feed our selves,

And defend all our rights;

But he sat and he watched and waited for some mates to help;

All thru the days and all thru the nights.



Along came the Lawmen Kevlar vest and Glocks in hand;

“You come with us you red- necked man,

No game- no guns- no sport for you in your land for ever-more,

You don’t count coz you’re a dino-saur;”



No Eureka Stockades left in this once great-est Land

Only those in power have Guns now at hand;

No more jolly sh-ooters, wild pigs or flying ducks

Just the memories of the free-doms we’ve lost.

3rd Chorus:

“Oh to be Indiginal, Oh to be Indiginal,

Full hunting rights wherever they may be,

And all they had to do was ca-mp by their Parliament;

Under the shade of the Taxpayers Tree”



All the Shooters had to do was join our Aboriginals;

They are far more uni-fied than we;

We only had to rally round hand & join our hands to-gether,

Under the shade of the Taxpayers Tree.