The One that Found Galore: Patrick Tayluer in Australia

This is part of a series of posts about the retired sailor and shanty singer Patrick Tayluer (1856-1948). Find the entire series at this link!

Listening through the sea shanties, songs,  and sailing lore recorded by collector William Main Doerflinger from retired sailor Patrick Tayluer in 1942, I was struck by Tayluer’s fascination with Australia. He had lived for 20 years in the British colonies that became South Africa; both his parents probably were born in colonial Canada; and sometimes he claimed to have been born in Canada himself. Yet he did not praise any of these colonies the way he rhapsodized about Australia. Moreover, he claimed familiarity with the early history of Australia, from its days as a penal colony through its periods of heavy immigration and into the modern era.

We don’t know for sure when Patrick Tayluer first visited Australia. It seems likely he went there during his first period of activity as a sailor, from 1869 until about 1887. It’s also possible he visited in his second brief period at sea, which lasted from about 1907 to 1914. But so far I’ve seen no proof he was there in either of these time frames.

We know for sure, however, that Tayluer spent about two years in Australia after the end of his official sailing career, arriving in August 1929. While there, he spent most of his time walking. Starting on August 19, he walked from Brisbane to Perth, following a route that took him through Sydney, Melbourne, and Adelaide, a distance of over 5000 Km. He arrived in Perth on April 4, 1930, speaking to the Perth Mirror on his arrival and again a week later. He arrived without possessions or money, and the Mirror reported on April 12:

Now he wants work, and if anyone has a job for this philosophical stranger and walker of the world’s highways, ‘The Mirror’ will be pleased to hear of it.

Tayluer does not seem to have found work, though, and several papers reported on February 20, 1931, that he had continued walking, from Perth to Kalgoorlie, Kalgoorlie to Wiluna, Wiluna to Geraldton, and eventually to Bunbury, adding about another 2500 Km, for a total of about 7500 Km in 18 months.  The 1931 stories also reported that Tayluer was planning to leave Australia for home, and indeed I found him in the crew list of the West Honaker that year, arriving in Oregon in August.

Whether on his previous visits or during his two-year stay, Tayluer developed a love of Australia and its culture. In his long visit there he got to see most of the populous parts of Australia, and must have interacted with hundreds of people. Along the way, he learned several songs from or about Australia, and also knew stories about the songs; in total, 11 selections from Tayluer’s 79 items are on Australian themes.

We’ll hear two of Patrick Tayluer’s Australian songs and their stories in this post. Let’s begin with a song he called “The True-Born Irishman” or “Wandering Through Australia.” Hear the song in the player below, and follow on in my transcription below that.

Now I’m going to tell you and sing to you another immigrant song, and it was very dearly loved by both sailors and by both men ashore in Australia. In fact, it has become a national song in Australia.

So with me bundle on my shoulder and a billycan in my hand
I have traveled through the bushes of Australia like a true born Irishman.

Now when I first did land out here I knew no one that I could say
But I’ve found lots of friends in Australia, although I’m a beachcomber today
So with me bundle on my shoulder and a billycan in my hand
I have traveled through the bushes of Australia like a true born Irishman.

I have sit on the roadside and cooked my tucker, I’ve laid under the eucalyptus tree.
But if ever I get back to my old home I’ll tell them the story, you see
So with me bundle on my shoulder and a billycan in my hand
I have traveled through the bushes of Australia like a true born Irishman.

Now I’ve laid under the eucalyptus tree and the kookaburra how he laughed
Sure I looked up at him and I swore I would be a bold young colonial, you see,
So with me bundle on my shoulder and a billycan in my hand
I have traveled through the bushes of Australia like a true born Irishman.

Now, I’ve marched and trekked from here to there, I have worked on farms and on mines.
I worked for the squatter, and God knows whatter, but still I’m an Australian man
So with me bundle on my shoulder and a billycan in my hand
I have traveled through the bushes of Australia like a true born Irishman.

Now you may talk about the beachcomber and you may talk about his lore
But he’s the one but found the world for you, he’s the one that found galore.
So with your bundle on your shoulder and a billycan in your hand,
You would travel through the bushes of Australia like a true born Irishman.

Now, go east, go west, you’ll always find a sailor has endured.
He left his ship to wander around and through and through
But when he came out to Australia with his bundle on his back
He proved to you that he was the man that found that real old track.

So with your bundle on your shoulder and a billycan in my hand
I have traveled through the bushes of Australia like a true born Irishman.

With me bundle on my shoulder and a billycan in my hand
I have traveled through the bushes of Australia like a true born Irishman.

Now my name is Johnny Dandy and I’m laying here to die,
With my tucker bag all empty and my water bag quite dry,
But whoever finds this letter, he will always think of me
As the sailor who left the sea and found the gold of liberty.

So with me bundle on my shoulder and a blackthorn in my hand
I did travel through the bushes of Australia like a true born Irishman.

Now that song was sung as a rule by the Australians and by the men of the ships, because it was a very lovely song and was always thought a great deal of by both men on land and men on sea.

And now these ships that I am talking about, these immigrant ships, there were some curious things happened on board of them. I remember one time in taking a ship’s crew, I had to take a double crew, because I was taking 520 women out to Australia. And it was a great undertaking for a ship. It was in a vessel called the Loch Torridon. We were taking these girls out to man a factory for Bell’s Match people.

So when we got out there, the parson came aboard in Sydney at Goat Island, and he asked:

“Well, Captain, how many women have you got on board?”
“Well, just about 520.”
“Any looking for a husband?”
Well, I don’t know. You must find that out for yourselves.”
“All right, Captain, as soon as the customs have been aboard and the doctor, we’ll see what there is. There’s plenty of squatters to be found here. There’s lots of them around the ship right now waiting to come on board.”

Well, as soon as the doctor and the customs had passed the ship, the chief of customs and the doctor stopped on board to act as witnesses to the marriage. The old padre went aft to the booby hatch and the squatters came aboard. The squatter would go to the girl, and he would say to her:

“Well, girl, what have you come to Australia for?”
“Well, to get work, sir!”
“How about taking a job for life with me? It may seem funny, girl, but I am a squatter. I have about half a million sheep away in the back blocks, and I can afford to keep you in every luxury that an Australian girl would get.”
“Well, yes, I might do worse. Yes, I’ll take you for me husband.”
“All right, let’s go along to the hatch.”

So they came along to the hatch. It was read out, and the marriage ceremony was performed. They were made man and wife. I have ofttimes seen as many as 100 to 200 marriages performed in these immigrant ships with one ring. Yet they made the happiest of couples and the finest of children in the world in Australia.

Patrick Tayluer was certainly correct that his song is considered a national song in Australia. It has been published many times there, including by the great collector and poet Andrew Barton “Banjo” Paterson; it has been recorded from Australian oral tradition by folklorists like John Meredith; and it has been sung by many Australian folk groups, most famously perhaps by the Seekers in 1965. Depending on the version, it’s sometimes known as “With My Swag All on My Shoulder,” and sometimes as “Dennis O’Reilly,” and some books of Australian folksongs (including Paterson’s) include both variants. The version many Australians know today features the lines:

“With me swag all on my shoulder, black billy in my hand
I’ll travel the bush of Australia like a true-born native man.”

A “swag” is a bundle rolled up in a bedroll, and “black billy” refers to a well-used “billycan,” generally a can with a handle attached that’s used for boiling water. Once it’s been over the fire a few times, a billycan is black on the outside with soot. The refrain is therefore very similar in meaning to what Tayluer sang, though the specific vocabulary varies. (“Native” in this case simply means born in Australia, not necessarily Indigenous.)

One more noteworthy difference is that in Australia “the bush” refers to undeveloped wilderness areas, including deserts, scrublands, and forests. “The bush” is an important concept to Australian life, romanticized in folklore and art. Tayluer marks himself (and the Irish narrator of his song) as not fully Australian by referring to traveling through “the bushes of Australia.”

Like many Australian folksongs, “With My Swag All on My Shoulder” and its variants are derived from an English broadside of the late 18th or early 19th century (see a British printing here and a later American printing here) called “The Roving Journeyman,” which often had the lines:

“With my kit all on my shoulder and my stick then in my hand
It’s round the country I will go like a roving journeyman.”

The English Romany singer Danny Brazil’s version had the lines:

“With my bundle on my shoulder, my shillelagh blackthorn in my hand
Sure I bless the day as I sailed away as a rambling Irishman”

Brazil’s version includes the word “bundle,” indicating this was a traditional lyric. Note also that Patrick Tayluer sang “a blackthorn in my hand” in one of his verses; Brazil’s version shows that the blackthorn was likewise traditional in Irish variants of the song. This suggests Tayluer might have known more than one variant at some point–one with “blackthorn” and one with “billycan.”

Maurice Leyden, as part of his 2008 lecture here at the American Folklife Center, sang another Irish version with the lines:

“With my knapsack over my shoulder and my small can in my hand
And it’s down to Derry I will go like a roving journeyman.”

This suggests that the “can,” as an accoutrement of the wanderer, was also already part of the song in the old world before it traveled to Australia.

We don’t know when this song first came to Australia, but it was probably there in various forms by the 1880s. Starting in the 1890s it can be found in collections and newspapers with the protagonist calling himself “a true-born Englishman,” “a true-born Irishman,” and “a true-born native man.”

Tayluer’s verses don’t correspond well to other texts of the song, and they don’t maintain a consistent meter or rhyme scheme. This suggests he was probably improvising some of the verses as he went, tailoring them to the situation, and perhaps importing ideas from other songs–all techniques we have noted in his shanty singing. For example, this is the only version of the “bundle-and-billycan” theme I’ve ever seen where the protagonist is a “beachcomber,” which was Tayluer’s word for a sailor who had given up the sea for some time, as he himself had done for large stretches of his life. Tayluer had another (possibly original) song called “The Beachcomber’s Song” where it becomes clearer what he means by it. Tayluer knew that the collector, Bill Doerflinger, was primarily interested in sailors’ songs, so it seems plausible that making the protagonist a sailor was his innovation. Tayluer’s song also seems to have as one of its themes the redemption of the beachcomber as “the one that found the world for you,” and “the one that found galore;” as a sometime beachcomber himself, Tayluer would naturally espouse this position.

It’s interesting that this song juxtaposes the eucalyptus or gum tree and the laughing cry of the kookaburra. The famous Australian song on that theme was a recent composition that was becoming a global hit among scouts and other youth groups when Tayluer made these recordings. It’s possible a man with an interest in Australian songs would have heard it by 1942, and thus it’s a possible source for those lyrics.

Tayluer’s sense of humor is also on display in the song; the turn of phrase “I worked for the squatter, and God knows whatter” seems to be original. Unlike its typical meanings elsewhere, in Australia the word “squatter” had come to mean a class of wealthy and powerful ranchers who had amassed their fortunes partly by enclosing Crown lands without a legal right to do so. Not all squatters were rich, but as a class  they were considered the upper echelons of rural society, and sometimes known as the Squattocracy. Thus, “working for the squatter” was typically being a station hand (which Americans would call a ranch hand) or related work, and the verse suggests the character had worked on farms, mines, ranches, and “God knows what.”

Also particularly striking is the phrase “the one that found galore.” This is an unusual usage of the word “galore,” which is already an unusual word. “Galore” is one of the few adjectives in English that most commonly follows, rather than precedes, the noun it modifies: we say “abundant apples” and “more than enough apples,” “big apples” and “red apples,” but “apples galore.” This is probably because “galore” comes from Gaelic, where adjectives do often follow the nouns.

There is some evidence that “galore” entered English more than once, from both Irish and Scottish Gaelic, and in Scotland it had additional meanings; it was often used as a noun, meaning “abundance.” A person could be said to be living in “luxury and galore,” or to have “galores of bread and cheese” or to use “galore of raisins” or simply to “have galore.” “Galore” was first included in Webster’s dictionaries in 1864, five years before Patrick Tayluer went to sea, and (perhaps on the basis of this Scottish evidence) it was listed as a noun as well as an adjective. Interestingly, the 1864 editors noted of the noun form: “This word is not now used except in some parts of England, and by sailors.” It therefore seems likely Patrick Tayluer was using a particularly sailorly turn of phrase when he said “he’s the one that found galore.” The triumphant beachcomber in Tayluer’s song had found abundance or wealth of some kind, perhaps in the gold rushes that began in 1851.

On the other hand, there’s another possible meaning. In New South Wales, there is a small town and a nearby hill (now a scenic reserve) called “Galore.” According to the reserve’s brochure:

“Folklore has it that the early settler Henry Osborne is responsible for Galore Hill’s unusual name. It is said that after climbing to the top, Osborne shouted to the world, ‘There’s land enough and galore for me.’ Galore Hill has been known by this name ever since.”

Henry Osborne, interestingly, was an immigrant to Australia from Ireland who acquired land near Galore, which he first spotted while trekking overland between Illawarra and South Australia in about 1840. Did he do so with a bundle on his shoulder and a billycan (and/or blackthorn) in his hand? We can’t be sure, but the song could in theory be recounting the imagined exploits of a true-born Irishman who literally “found Galore.” Given the fact that Osborne was wealthy, however, and didn’t need to mine, farm, or work for the squatter, the first interpretation seems more likely.

What about Patrick Tayluer’s tale of the mass wedding aboard the Loch Torridon? It should probably be taken with a grain of salt, but it does contain interesting details. The Loch Torridon herself was a well-documented ship, in her time one of the fastest clippers under sail, and she did sail frequently between Britain and Australia. She had two known skippers in her time under British colors: Captains Pinder and Pattman.

Although Tayluer puts himself in the role of captain in his story, saying “one time in taking a ship’s crew, I had to take a double crew,” I’ve seen no record of his being her captain. As I’ve said before, I doubt he was ever the captain of any ship; the crew lists I’ve seen from later in his career list him as able seaman or bosun.

Some of the other details of the story could be true. As we’ve seen, Tayluer did sometimes say he was the captain of ships he did not actually command but did sail on, so it’s perfectly likely he sailed on the Loch Torridon. R. Bell & Co., a British match manufacturer, did have factories in Australia making waterproof strike-anywhere friction matches known as “wax vestas.” Moreover, their factories were largely staffed by women, and throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries there were government assistance programs to encourage migration from Britain to Australia. At first glance, Tayluer’s story of “taking 520 women out to Australia…to man a factory for Bell’s Match people” seems quite plausible.

On the other hand, according to the sources I’ve read, Bell & Co. and its partner Bryant & May mostly hired women who were already in Australia. They brought over only a few experienced staff members from Britain to train the Australian workers, and considered bringing single women en masse to Australia from Britain “a blunder and a crime.” I’ve also read accounts suggesting that some women hoped to find squatters lined up at the pier to marry new immigrants, but that it didn’t really happen. The squatting era was coming to an end in 1900, and the scenario of squatters lined up at the quay for wives certainly seems like a 19th century phenomenon, but the Bell factory only opened in 1894 after Tayluer was in the army in Africa, so this voyage to Australia would likely be after he was discharged in 1902. Finally, I haven’t found any news stories or other accounts that support Tayluer’s story.

These facts lead me to doubt Tayluer’s story, but he doesn’t give enough detail (especially about dates) to say for sure. Needless to say, any readers who have more information about 520 British women being brought to Australia to work for Bell & Co., or about mass weddings aboard immigrant ships in Australia, are welcome to comment. It would be fascinating to have confirmation of more elements of this tale!

Perhaps Tayluer’s most interesting, if confusing, Australian song is a ballad about an Irish convict who is transported to Australia and becomes an outlaw or bushranger. For most of the song, the central character is called “Jack O’Brien,” but in some places he is called “Jack Donahue,” and at the end “Captain Starlight.”

Now this is a song that was sung by all the seamen pretty well bound out to Australia. When the song was written, I think it was written aboard of the Success, the old convict ship that used to take the prisoners out to Australia, out to Van Dieman’s land, or which is Hobart, Tasmania. And there the boys were put in prison. And if they behaved themselves, after so long, they were allowed to go to the mainland and take up a farm or anything they wanted to do to earn their living. But this boy, instead of taking up the farm work, he became a renegade, as he always swore that he was innocent of the crime that they put him in jail for. But there, as you know, in those days, Australia was so far off from England that they had to do something. So they gave every man time, who was locked up. It didn’t matter whether he was English, Irish, Scotch or Welsh. He got a long time so that they would send him to Australia to do his imprisonment. And that is the reason why today, Australia has such a fine…well, I might say…colony behind her. She is one of the greatest colonies under the face of the sun of Great Britain. Now this is the way the song goes.

Sure I am a wild young Irish boy and from Dublin town I came
Transported out to Van Dieman’s Land; of it I ain’t ashamed
Sure I’ll have you all to know, me boys, that wherever I may be
I’ll die at my post like an Irish lad, or a wild colonial boy

Now, I done my time in Hobart and they sent me over here.
They yoked me to a plough and the fields for me to tier.
But I didn’t understand farming as I had been to sea;
I’d sailed the oceans far and wide, so I a farmer could not be.

But I became a bold young renegade and I traveled far and near.
Oh, I robbed the rich and I gave to the poor; of it I ain’t ashamed,
But I never killed a man that didn’t cause me any pain;
But the troopers knew Jack O’Brien, and they let me ride for gain

Now, one morning in the merry month of May, sure I did find
A wagon bringin’ in gold from the Bendigo find.
“Oh, halt, you boys, and ‘old up your ‘ands!”-when a sergeant did appear
Says he, “Look, Jack O’Brien, me boy, you’ll do this once too near!

“Your time it is over and you sure must fight or die!”
“Then I’ll fight the six of you troopers, and I am only one.
Sure I’ll fight to the end or victory, and I don’t give a damn.
I’ll be at my post like an Irish lad or a wild colonial boy,”

Now, the six troopers fell upon the ground, from their ‘orses off did slide
And the sergeant he cried out to Jack Donohue to abide
“By the law, you’re a prisoner!” “Then take me,” said old Jack.
“But Sergeant, you’ve got some children, and look that I don’t
shoot the track!

“Now, McKenzie, you’re a brave man, and I ‘ate like ‘ell to do,
To take your wife and children’s bread from them for to kill you
So take my advice and ride away, and don’t say what I’ve done.
I’m only takin’ this gold for to buy some pleasin’ place for some.”

Now when I’m far away and the farmers all will buy
Fine horses and fine wagons for their farms to die upon,
Sure you’ll all live to wonder why Jack Donohue would say
That I work for the farmers night and day, and for the rich and
poor I’ve prayed.

I’ve robbed the coaches day and night, but I never robbed the poor.
I have never committed murder, nor have I strayed from fields galore.
I am chased from country to country, from borderline to town
But ne’er can they catch bold Jack again, for O’Brien is far away.

Now at last I’m laying on my bed and God does only know
I haven’t long to live, I know, for I surely must go.
I would love to tell the truth-oh, before I go away,
But I would love for some poor person for to receive that bounty pay!

Sure I’m still a wild old renegade; Starlight is my name.
Oh they’ve looked for me from shore to shore and along the coast for miles
From state to state they’ve chased me, and at last I’m on my bed
If that newsboy would only come in, I’d tell him what to do

Just then the door it opened and the newsboy did come in
“Good mornin’, Captain Starlight. Oh, good morning, sir,” he said.
No answer but a beckon and a little note to say:
“Jack O’Brien is dying and he wants you for to take

“This note unto your mother, and let her do the rest,
And call the doctor first, and the police can come at last.
They can take my body away, and they never will be able to say
That Jack Donahue didn’t die like an Irish lad or a wild colonial boy!”

Now, I’ve traveled through the bushes, oh, both night and day,
With my bundle on my shoulder and a billy-can in my hand;
But I’ve always played the game, as every Australian should,
I’ve died at my post like an Irish lad, or a wild colonial boy.

It’s amusing that Tayluer suggests this song was written aboard the Success, “the old convict ship that used to take the prisoners out to Australia.” In fact, it makes little sense that prisoners being brought to Australia from Ireland would write ballads about the exploits of robbers in Australia, which they had never yet visited. Perhaps because Doerflinger was primarily interested in sea songs, Tayluer sought to make this one sea-related by adding that to his story.

It’s also true that the Success was never a convict ship–she was briefly a prison hulk, which was a very different thing, but she had mostly been a merchant vessel. In 1890 she was converted into a museum of the Australian convict experience, a sort of floating dungeon displaying forms of punishment and torture and offering tales of convict life. After only a few years in Australia she was sailed to Britain and exhibited at various cities there; then in 1911 she sailed to the United States and was shown for a further 30 years here.

According to author R. J. Norgard, during this period the Success was falsely marketed as having been a convict transport “with increasingly greater misrepresentation of her true history.” You can read, for example, an entirely fabricated “History of the British Convict Ship Success and Its Most Notorious Prisoners,” filled with lurid details of things that never happened on the ship (though some did happen elsewhere), and tales of real convicts who never sailed on her. Meanwhile, Norgard tells us, “official representatives for Australia quietly – and unsuccessfully – petitioned the U.S. to have the exhibit stopped” because of its gruesome and inaccurate treatment of Australian history. It seems likely Tayluer, a man keenly interested in both Australia and ships, who spent time in most of the seaports of Britain and America, had visited the Success, and been taken in by some of this false history.

It’s also notable that, just as we saw with his version of “The True-Born Irishman,” Tayluer’s main character in “I Am a Wild Young Irish Boy” is a professional sailor who winds up ashore in Australia. In the ballad it’s his inability to come to terms with farming, since he was trained as a sailor, that sets him on the path of crime. There’s no explanation of why a sailor-turned-convict, having done his time, wouldn’t just return to sea. This makes it seem again as if Tayluer added some of his own biography to the song, either just for fun or because he knew Doerflinger was primarily interested in sailors’ songs.

The ballad itself, disjointed though it is, is fascinating. The identity of “Jack O’Brien” is a mystery to me, but Jack Donahue or Donohoe was a real bushranger who arrived in Australia in 1825 and died in 1830 after a short life of crime. Tayluer’s ballad repeatedly calls its protagonist a “wild colonial boy,” which was both a sobriquet of Donohue himself and the title of a widely sung ballad about him. Tayluer’s song is clearly a cousin of this better known song, “The Wild Colonial Boy,” as well as of another ballad about Donohue, “Bold Jack Donohue.” Donohue’s story has been told in virtually every medium, and was the subject of “The Tragedy of Donohoe,” the first play written, published, and set in Australia. Meanwhile, “Captain Starlight,” another alias of Tayluer’s ballad hero, was the real-life alias of bushranger Frank Pearson, and also a leading character in Rolf Boldrewood’s 1882-1883 novel Robbery Under Arms, which drew on tales of other real outlaws, and which was repeatedly dramatized in plays and films during the early 20th century, any of which Tayluer could have seen during his time in Australia.

Tayluer’s song, then, seems to combine a number of different sources, failing to integrate them fully but nevertheless telling a compelling story. In the ballad, after being transported and serving his time, Jack O’Brien/ Donohue commits many crimes, finally attempting to rob a cargo of gold from Bendigo. (This dates this scene to after the “Bendigo find” in 1851, and thus well after the real Donohue’s death.) He is confonted by Sergeant McKenzie and six troopers. It’s not quite clear whether a fight occurs or is narrowly averted, but it seems O’Brien eventually convinces the sergeant to let him go rather than risk being killed, partly by pointing out that McKenzie’s family would be destitute if the sergeant were killed, and partly by promising to use the gold to buy things for others, including horses and wagons for local farmers.

After describing other exploits, the action moves to the hero lying on his deathbed. The text suggests this scene occurs much later, with the line “I’m still a wild old renegade.” This line naturally contrasts with “I am a wild young Irish boy” from the first line and “I became a bold young renegade” from the third stanza, showing the narrator is now old instead of young. “Starlight is my name” suggests that he has successfully hidden his identity under the alias “Starlight” in the years since the fight with McKenzie, at which time “the troopers knew Jack O’Brien” and indeed called him by name.

The death scene itself emphasizes the outlaw’s kindness. Knowing his death is near, but also knowing there’s a reward for his capture, he tries to think of a way to secure the reward for a poor person. He fixes on the newsboy, and writes a note to the newsboy’s mother explaining how to turn him in and receive the bounty. When the newsboy arrives, O’Brien (known to the newsboy as “Captain Starlight”) gives him the note and waits for the doctor and the authorities, summoned by the newsboy’s mother, to arrive. While waiting he reflects on time he spent “with my bundle on my shoulder and a billy-can in my hand,” and comforts himself by saying “I’ve died at my post like an Irish lad, or a wild colonial boy.”

“I Am a Wild Young Irish Boy” has some phrases from “Bold Jack Donohue,” “The Wild Colonial Boy,” and “The True-Born Irishman,” but it does not closely resemble any of them. After Doerflinger published it in Shantymen and Shantyboys, the scholars G. Malcolm Laws and Steve Roud both numbered it in their indexes (it’s Laws L19 and Roud 1907). Neither Laws nor Roud considers any other collected song to be closely enough related to this one to share its index number, meaning no other version of the same song has been discovered before or since Tayluer was recorded over 80 years ago. This suggests it’s possible that Tayluer composed it himself, drawing on traditional songs, books he had read, or even plays and films he had seen while in Australia; there were in fact such plays and films about Jack Donohue, Captain Starlight, and other bushrangers.

“I Am a Wild Young Irish Boy” remains, then, one of the mysteries of Patrick Tayluer’s repertoire, a song long accepted as “traditional” despite having been known, seemingly, only to one man. Yet it encompasses a lot of Australian lore concerning several real outlaws, the penal system, the Gold Rush, and other aspects of Australian history. Did Patrick Tayluer learn this history from songs, or did he learn it in other ways–from books, plays, films, or conversations–and then insert it into the framework of songs he knew, creating “I Am a Wild Young Irish Boy?” Perhaps we’ll never know.

Let’s give the last word and note to John Thompson, an award-winning Australian folk musician who recorded his own rendition of “I Am a Wild Young Irish Boy” for his blog “An Australian Folk Song a Day.” John was a great singer and musician, and an important force on the Australian folk scene. The AFC team–including me–got to meet John and his wife Nicole Murray, who played as the band Cloudstreet, at the Folk Alliance International meeting some years ago. Sadly, John passed away in 2021. John’s blog suggests he might not have known the source of this song, but his text certainly came ultimately from Doerflinger’s book, as it preserves some of Doerflinger’s idiosyncrasies. That means that the true source was Patrick Tayluer and the field recording presented here. I only wish John had had the chance to hear it. I’d like to dedicate this post to John and Nicole, who are among the many inspiring people I’ve met who bring field recordings like ours to life.  Hear John Thompson’s version of the song at this link!