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The Wayside Ballads Vol 3 (2021)

by Bill Jackson

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1.
Convict Blood (Ross Jackson/Bill Jackson) Where did you get that spirit to fight that streak in you to prevail Where did you find in darkness a light to survive when others had failed Where did you get that flaw in your soul that threatens to show the stain Is it the ghost of something untold or the convict blood coursing through your veins Why do you weep and sob inside when you see a mother and child Why won’t the tears fill up your eyes on a face that’s forgotten to smile Where did you get that devil may care and those scars you hide in shame Is it the sadness or something too deep or the convict blood coursing through your veins In the courts of the realm of County Down the lords and the nobles bowed to the crown And festered hate across black bitter seas Into the souls of long gone banished Transportees How did you find that depth of hate when you landed on these shores Using sugar, guns and alcohol to help you win the wars Where did you get that rebel streak was it through heartbreak and pain Was it the ghost of something cold or the convict blood coursing through your veins In the courts of the realm of County Down the lords and the nobles bowed to the crown And festered hate across black bitter seas Into the souls of long gone banished Transportees
2.
That’s Why I’m Here (Bill Jackson / Ross Jackson) I know I don’t look like you and you don’t dress like me Maybe we can close our eyes and look out to sea Beyond the blue horizon, beyond the lies and hate Beyond the old religions, beyond the shackled gates I’m tired of the bombs, tired of the sleepless fear Tired of the tears in my children’s eyes and that’s why I’m here I know I don’t pray like you and you don’t eat like me When it all comes down to the bigger picture we all just want to be The best brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers and peers And live a life of dignity, that’s why I’m here I’m tired of the bombs, tired of the sleepless fear Tired of the tears in my children’s eyes and that’s why I’m here I miss my real home but we had no choice We ran like dogs to a bone can you imagine how that feels? I’m tired of the bombs, tired of the sleepless fear Tired of the tears in my children’s eyes and that’s why I’m here
3.
The Shed 04:25
The Shed (Bill Jackson/Ross Jackson) The sun burns through the iron roof and the floor cuts through your knees It breaks your back and spirit to be harvesting the fleece Your swollen wrists are taking strain from working Sheffield shears Chalking up the numbers and dreaming of the beers In shearers camps down muddy tracks they lived both poor and rough The union set conditions shrugged off as a bluff The raddling in the sheds is rife the tallies are all wrong The bosses here are bastards now there’s scabs down at Brookong So on a Riverina morning to a sweet Flame Robin song They raised their hands in anger and put a black ban on Brookong The unionising shearers came down on all the scabs Held siege at Brookong Shearing Shed till it all turned to bad The fighting and the riots lasted all day long The coppers led away ten martyrs from Brookong Two years of time in Goulbourn gaol hard labour to his like Befell poor William Jackson and his brothers of the strife You can whip us you can jail us but it won’t be lasting long A change is surely coming you can hear it in the songs So on a Riverina morning to a sweet Flame Robin song They raised their hands in anger and put a black ban on Brookong
4.
Sons of Gippsland (Bill Jackson/Ross Jackson) They rode in from the stations and down the haunted hills From the mines and dairy farms rural towns and timber mills From Neerim South and Thorpdale, Bairnsdale and Bullumwaal, Sale, Maffra and Stratford, Ruby, Outrim and Warragul Horsemen young and daring skilled bushmen one and all On mounts hardy bred and rangy bound for the Transvaal War They sat the saddle proudly as only horsemen can Who rode before they walked and as children worked the land From inlet coastal windy From the lush flat dairy plains From Omeo and Orbost The Sons of Gippsland came Fighting for the old world for their King and Queen For the diamonds and gold and the Empire dream From Yarram Yarram and Flynns Creek, Cassalis and Briagolong Morwell, Moe and Hazelwood, Jack River and Bullong From inlets coastal windy To the lush flat dairy plains From Omeo and Orbost The Sons of Gippsland came From Yarram Yarram and Flynn’s Creek The Sons of Gippsland came From Woodside and Wron Wron The Sons of Gippsland came The Sons of Gippsland came
5.
Cut & Run 02:48
Throwaway Song (Bill Jackson/Ross Jackson) He was writing about wizards throwing wands up and down Thrilling the crowd with the sparkling sound And when the smoke cleared, he wasn’t around He was nowhere to be found He had vanished along some lonesome road On a map from his past where sins had been sewn Dragged him on down through the weight of their load It’s a ragged old garden we hoe He sat there in silence working on A bottle of whiskey and a throwaway song And he weren’t going to quit till both were done He was not one to cut and run As the sun broke through the slaughtered sky Of black and blood as night time died On a rainy day that refused to cry     He made up another lie This broken world just rambles on Many long years after he’s gone There’s nothing left here to say he belonged Besides a throwaway song He sat there in silence working on A bottle of whiskey and a throwaway song And he weren’t going to quit till both were done He was not one to cut and run No he was not one to cut and run
6.
Summer on the Somme (Bill Jackson/Ross Jackson) All that is left are names carved in stone On the Main St in Eltham that they used to call home Long ago in places hard to pronounce Lie lost sons and daughters in Belgium and France Summer on the Somme 1916 On July 1 it turned obscene On the pretty green fields raged a living hell Of deadly gas and machine guns and shells  After each battle the death lists came down There was heartbreak and sorrow in the cities and towns The shock of the loss the burning pain Of never seeing or feeling a loved one again Summer on the Somme 1916 On July 1 it turned obscene On the pretty green fields raged a living hell Of deadly gas and machine guns and shells So many dead for such little gain Man’s greatest achievement was to kill and to maim Now all that is left are names carved in stone On the Main St in Eltham that they used to call home Summer on the Somme 1916 On July 1 it turned obscene On the pretty green fields raged a living hell Of deadly gas and machine guns and shells On the pretty green fields raged a living hell Of deadly gas and machine guns and shells
7.
The Ballad of Billy and Rosie (Bill Jackson/Ross Jackson) When Rosie met Billy this ballad got born Young and restless in a country at war And their love gave birth to a chain of events Rosie a farm girl and a beauty they say Billy drove trucks till the war came of age And their lives got entwined to the bitter and the worse I’m sure there were happy times four babies got born But times were hard and Billy got torn So he drank his way through a life of self destruction I remember being dirt poor and a tender mothers love And I remember chasing balls like it was written from above And it made me richer as I stumbled through this chain of events My brothers and sisters all scattered as one Left Rosie and I to Billy’s whiplash tongue So I withdrew into a world of my own So here I am it’s been a roll of the dice Some spit in the wind and no closing price All that trouble and strife but at least I’m still here I remember being dirt poor and a tender mother’s love And I remember chasing balls like it was written from above But I finally got around to writing The Ballad of Billy and Rosie I finally got around to writing The Ballad of Billy and Rosie
8.
I Take My Whisky Neat (Ross Jackson/Bill Jackson) No river flowed wild across flat bedrock white Could smooth out the edges and make it feel right Not a hundred Hank songs or words ever spoke Could sing back a heart that’s just been broke Where there’s smoke there’s fire Where there’s fire there’s heat Where there’s heat there’s drinking I take my whisky neat No songbird so sad could sing like the breeze As it sighs through the branches and leaves of my trees No raindrops fallen from a dark winter sky Could warm down the cheek like a tear from my eye Where there’s smoke there’s fire Where there’s fire there’s heat Where there’s heat there’s drinking I take my whisky neat No words of sorrow to a billion ears Could change the hatred of a thousand years We’ve come too far and for way too long And how come we’re still talking about dropping the bomb Where there’s smoke there’s fire Where there’s fire there’s heat Where there’s heat there’s drinking I take my whisky neat
9.
She Rode Like the Wind  (Bill Jackson/Ross Jackson) The Warby Ranges back in the day had two kinds of folks locals and strays Red was unchained forgiven of sin Ellen Irish and rode like a Quinn Babies were born into desperate grief to those who gave mercy to killers and thieves With her hair midnight black turning to grey and seven children standing over Red’s early grave That mare in foal oh she’s mine lead her quietly away before the sun shines Stolen meat, brands cut from the hide, there’s nothing to eat less you’re going inside Music and Mirth shared altered brands, Ellen’s twelfth baby shackled her hands Stringybark’s tall, a moonless night, wild dogs howled, something’s not right She started on horses, finished in cars, drawn to the battle and showing the scars She buried the old ones, her children and kin, saddled her pony and she rode like the wind  Cold cell in winter babe at the breast hot days of summer as his majesty’s guest She was let loose forgiven of sin Ned hung by the neck and was dust in the wind Dan was burnt black Kate howled at the moon and died on her own in a murky lagoon With her grandson gone to a cruel war lost the cold chilled her bones such a heavy cost  She started on horses, finished in cars, drawn to the battle and showing the scars She buried the old ones, her children and kin, saddled her pony and she rode like the wind Saddled her pony and she rode like the wind
10.
Jesus Take the Wheel (Bill Jackson/Ross Jackson) The thinkers the dreamers and the poets who weep Are the broken and empty souls on the street With their aimless aimless shuffle and struggle to the beat They lay shame to us all as they stare down defeat The strength in their eyes is veiled by the need To survive one more day from wounds that won’t bleed Stumblin’ their way on a path that’s been cruel As we look down upon them through the eyes of a fool And a pittance from your pocket sets your soul free As you place it in the hand of who you might have been Or maybe your just thinking I can cut some kind of deal Oh, Jesus take the wheel The waves roll and crash the wind blows and sings As we stroll through life and what it has to bring Time goes slow with nothing to show But a broken spirit and a row left to hoe The thinkers the dreamers and the poets who weep Are the broken and empty souls on the street With their aimless aimless shuffle and struggle to the beat They lay shame to us all as they stare down defeat And a pittance from your pocket sets your soul free As you place it in the hand of who you might have been Or maybe your just thinking I can cut some kind of deal Oh, Jesus take the wheel
11.
Worth Our Due (Bill Jackson / Ross Jackson) Oh mother it hurts so bad I’m cold and hungry and I miss my dad If I could ride I’d ride back home To the Warby Ranges where I used to roam My darling Ned if I could only touch you It would surely make the past seem worth our due Those coppers set us on our way to this house Hold your head up high and keep your rouse I can’t stop thinking ‘bout Steve and Dan I couldn’t hold them back not to a man And what about Kate my darling sister If there’s anyone at all I’ll miss her Oh Ned we didn’t stand a chance Because it’s hard times when you’re Irish in this dance Harassed and hounded to the sound of your voice Blind persecution born to no choice That bastard Barry he’s like all the rest To the hanging of the poor the mans obsessed I wonder how to history we’ll be read If he had his way we’d all be swinging dead Close your eyes son and think of home The one across the sea that’s right there in your bones You’ve done us proud and gave us hope You’ve got a Kelly’s heart and all they’ve got is rope

about

The Wayside Ballads Vol 3:

Launched at The Brunswick Ballroom on June 21, 2022, ‘The Wayside Ballads Vol 3’ is the final instalment of a vision Ross Jackson and I had in 2014 to produce three records of our songs across two continents and back – based on backlog, themes and a forward looking commitment to what we love doing. Vol 1 (2015) was eclectic and electric and produced by Shannon Bourne, whilst Vol 2 (2016) was in a modern sense, bluegrass, string band based and produced in Nashville by Thomm Jutz. The songs kept coming but life got in the way. I was hoping that fate would somehow intervene to show me which way to go with Vol 3. It did.
By chance I got to meet Kerryn Tolhurst who agreed to produce the new record. We made plans. Then all hell broke loose globally via a pandemic. We were confined to our homes but decided to press on anyway, working remote to each other in a spree of sharing files, email, and telephone conversations over a period of four months. In some ways it was a beautiful distraction. In other ways it felt like shaky ground, however I knew from very early on that Kerryn was invested in ‘the song’, made great choices and played beautifully. Kerryn shaped this record - In essence, he really produced and was both absolutely collaborative and supportive. He had a vision for each song - I feel very honored to have worked with him.
What you will hear on this record is essentially Kerryn and I, interspersed with some very special guests. So, to Stephen Hadley, Mischa Herman, Shannon Bourne, Ruth Hazleton, Paddy Montgomery, and Greg Field – thanks so much for your beautiful playing and for being part of this record.
To my brother and co-writer Ross Jackson who continues to inspire me with his words. The songs on this record are amongst my most favorite ones we have written together - love you Rocky. My partner Ruth Hazleton and son Charlie who gave me the patience, space and time to keep ducking in and out of the front room for four months whilst I obsessed over this or that and stayed close to Kerryn. Love you both.
It is a magical thing making a record. Completing a trilogy, a miracle. So, we are very proud to give you ‘The Wayside Ballads Vol 3’. The themes are local, the sounds are real, and our hearts were full in the making of it. This is folk music the way we write it. Enjoy.
Bill Jackson – 2020

credits

released April 19, 2021

The Musicians:
Bill Jackson: Vocals / Acoustic Guitar / Harp
Kerryn Tolhurst: Mandolin / Electric Guitar / Tricone Guitar / Lap Steel / Keyboards / Percussion / Acoustic Guitar
Stephen Hadley: Upright Bass
Greg Field: Fiddle
Paddy Montgomery: Yayli Tanbur
Mischa Herman: Pennywhistle
Shannon Bourne: Electric Guitar
Ruth Hazleton: Clawhammer Banjo

Credits:
Recorded by Kerryn Tolhurst and Bill Jackson: February – May 2020
Extra Recording: Myles Mumford, Paddy Montgomery, Stephen Hadley, and Mischa Herman
Mixed by Kerryn Tolhurst
Mastered by Mick Wordley at Mixmasters Studio (Adelaide)
Produced by Kerryn Tolhurst

(c) Laughing Outlaw Records 2021

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Bill Jackson Melbourne, Australia

'His songs are gritty and real and come at you like a hammer, ringin' in the mornin'. Take it or leave it, he's telling it straight up' (Shane Howard)

' Take a chance and listen to some Roots Music that cuts across Borders...' (Keith Glass)

‘We heard Bill Jackson for the first time at the Unpaved Sessions earlier in the year and he’s up there with Paul Kelly’ (The Melbourne Folk Club)
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