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The Last Bushranger

(the saga of Harry Power)



Gather round me children and hear my tale,
Sit with me for an hour,
And I'll tell you the story of the last bushranger
By the name of Harry Power.

Harry Power turned a fugitive
When he escaped from Pentridge Gaol.
He fled to his gunyah in the King River Valley
With the troopers on his trail.

By Eleven Mile Creek he passed one day
And uttering hardly a sentence,
He took the young Ned Kelly away
To take him for his apprentice.

Now, Ned Kelly, he were but fourteen year old,
But his mother she approved.
"Go with Harry Power, Ned," said she,
"For the father you hardly knew."

Gather round me children and hear my tale,
Sit with me for an hour,
And I'll tell you the story of the last bushranger
By the name of Harry Power.

Now, Harry was broad-shouldered in his oilskin coat,
With his grey beard, he looked older.
With a double-barrelled shotgun in his good right hand,
In his left, a one-inch muzzleloader.

Harry robbed the house of a Christian woman,
She started to read him her bible.
He said, 'Save it for those sods that are still in Pentridge,
Give me your money and the silver on your table."

Harry bailed up old Robert Mcbean,
A wealthy squatter from Benalla.
He stole his horse, his saddle and bridle
And a gold watch that he valued.

Now, Harry had a mate by the name of Jack Lloyd
Acting as a go-between
To return that gold watch, for fifteen pounds,
In a deal with squatter McBean.

The Chief of Police, a Captain Standish,
Approached this Judas, Jack Lloyd,
And persuaded him inform on the great bushranger
For the five hundred pound reward.

Now, Jack Lloyd led those outlaw hunters
Up the mountain spur so steep
And on a starry night, they found Harry's camp
And they took him in his sleep.

Harry was startled but he wasn't dismayed
He said, "I guess I was careless,
But you boys look hungry so sit back awhile,"
And he cooked those coppers their breakfast.

Harry was remanded to Wangaratta.
The crowds came out and cheered
But the judge returned him to the Pentridge Stockade
For a sentence of fifteen years.

Gather round me children and hear my tale,
Sit with me for an hour,
And I'll tell you the story of the last bushranger
By the name of Harry Power.

Harry served his time and he was released
With seven pounds to his name.
He had been in prisons almost half his life
And was sixty-six years of age.

Well, his final years were spent as a guide
On the prison hulk, 'Success'.
The very same ship where he'd had once been a convict,
Now a museum for the tourists.

Old Harry drowned in the Murray River
While off fishing alone.
The last of the Golden Bushrangers was gone
And his grave remains unknown.

So gather round me children and hear my tale,
Sit with me for an hour,
And I'll tell you the story of the last bushranger
By the name of Harry Power.

 

(Notes: Harry Power was a authentic bushranger, not an accidental one - he enjoyed the outlaw lifestyle and lived it to the hilt - he died believing that young Ned Kelly was one of the key informants who had turned him into the 'jacks and the johns' for reward money. This is what the police told him. Power said that Kelly was 'no good.' That version of the 'official' story never sat well with me so I did a little research and found that, as usual, the coppers of the time were using misinformation to trick and entrap. Hopefully, this song can redress the balance a little and also serve as a small tombstone for the old outlaw.)

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