The Eumerella Shore By Banjo Paterson
Paterson’s Comic Lens on Exploiting Loopholes
This satirical folk ballad pokes fun at the questionable practices of selectors exploiting their land grants under the controversial “Duffy Land Act” in colonial Australia.
Adopting the voice of a duplicitous selector, Paterson details tactics like illegally fencing off land, stealing squatters’ livestock, and conducting shady horse dealings. The mocking refrain implies these activities are justified revenge against wealthy landowners.
The Old Bush Songs
by Banjo Patterson
Paterson plays with the irony of the selector supposedly finding idyllic freedom on his “little piece of land” through very unethical means. His criminality is presented as clever rebellion, but carries hints of corruption.
The comic exaggeration suggests selectors knowingly twisted the Act’s aims to profit through illicit dealings at the squatter’s expense. By mentioning politician John Robertson, Paterson implies the policy enabled exploitation more than equitable land distribution.
So while humorous in tone, “The Eumerella Shore” provides social commentary on how legislative loopholes surrounding selection fueled unscrupulous opportunism and new inequalities in the bush.
THE EUMERELLA SHORE
There’s a happy little valley on the Eumerella shore,
Where I’ve lingered many happy hours away,
On my little free selection I have acres by the score,
Where I unyoke the bullocks from the dray.
Chorus
To my bullocks then I say
No matter where you stray,
You will never be impounded any more;
For you’re running, running, running on the duffer’s
piece of land,
Free selected on the Eumerella shore.
When the moon has climbed the mountains and the stars are
shining bright,
Then we saddle up our horses and away,
And we yard the squatters’ cattle in the darkness of the
night,
And we have the calves all branded by the day.
Chorus
Oh, my pretty little calf,
At the squatter you may laugh,
For he’ll never be your owner any more;
For you’re running, running, running on the duffer’s
piece of land,
Free selected on the Eumerella shore.
If we find a mob of horses when the paddock rails are down,
Although before they’re never known to stray,
Oh, quickly will we drive them to some distant inland town,
And sell them into slav’ry far away.
Chorus
To Jack Robertson we’ll say
You’ve been leading us astray,
And we’ll never go a-farming any more;
For it’s easier duffing cattle on the little piece of land
Free selected on the Eumerella shore.