A reminder of the songs of Sydney. Folks songs tell us about us
Back in the day, back at a time, this was a song taught to me by the older boys at school.
We sang it when we rocked the bus back and forth on school trips, scaring the driver into pulling over.
We sang it when we snatched items from the newsagent at the bottom of the hill and got banned from the milk bar for rapscallion behaviour.
We sang it when we dodged pursuit in the back alleys of The Rocks for throwing bungers at the horse police.
We sang it and we meant it when we formed an almost perfect unique solidarity against authorities. Oh how naughty.
We were us, they were them.
Somehow, the edge of an ancient razor gang, the wharf kids and dockies, dickensian thieves and labour factionalists still existed and I spent a few fortunate years in that strange twilight bubble.
Folk songs are an insight into our nature. There's a quintessential attitude in my beloved city that makes us highly irritating to other Australians. A sense of entitlement. New South Wales. The Premier State. That great wheezing corrupt old bawd of a city. Gosh we we luvs ya.