Bonnie Jess
words Thos. E. Spencer
melody Gary Shearston
I was a romantic teenager when I first heard this on Gary’s 1964 album, and it stayed with me. It wasn’t until 2017 that I learned it. I sing it in the third person and change the archaic thee, thy and thou to the contemporary. The tune was written by Gary but the lyrics are from a poem by Thomas Spencer, whose most famous poem is “How McDougall Topped the Score”.
O, the shearing time is over, Bonnie Jess
And the sheep are in the clover, Bonnie Jess
By the creek the cattle are lowing
And the golden crops are growing
The setting sun is glowing, Bonnie Jess
And a kiss to thee I'm throwing, Bonnie Jess.
To thy face the crimson's rushing, Bonnie Jess
Well, I know why thou art blushing, Bonnie Jess
'Tis the memory appearing
Of a promise in the clearing
When you said 'twixt hope and fearing, Bonnie Jess
You would wed me after shearing, Bonnie Jess.
Now the shearing time is over, Bonnie Jess
And thou art looking for thy lover, Bonnie Jess
You can hear my horse hooves ringing
As along the track I'm swinging
And a song for thee I'm singing, Bonnie Jess
And a wedding ring I'm bringing, Bonnie Jess.
Dad vs Teenagers
Dad might have been a bit of a rebel and a non-conformist but, like many of the older generation in the 1950s, he was anti-teenager, which meant anti-rock-and-roll and anti-pop music.
On my twelfth birthday, one of my siblings pointed out that at my next birthday, I would be a teenager. Dad slammed his fist down on the table and said, “She will NOT be a teenager!” Go figure.
On Sunday the 9th of February in 1964, The British sensation The Beatles were due to appear on the Ed Sullivan Show. I was not allowed to watch it. I don’t think I made a big deal out of it. I loved my father, and I wanted to share his values. I didn’t mind being different.
Or did I?
This is the same model as the transistor radio I had.
On Monday morning, standing in the hallway at school, waiting for the teacher, all the other kids were talking about The Beatles appearance on TV. I was totally sidelined. It seems I was the only one in the whole class who hadn’t been watching. I recall a girl who was usually not very popular - awkward, frumpy, shortsighted – being in the thick of the conversation because she knew facts about the Fab Four that no one else knew.
I felt very left out.
As a parting gift when we left for Australia, my godmother, Rita, gave me a $5 bill.
Five dollars!!!
I reckon that’s about $50 in today’s money. I carefully stowed it in my wallet.
During our boat trip we had a week in Fiji. My parents visited a duty free store where they were hoping to buy a stereo system. While they were discussing this with the salesman, Micki and I wandered around the shop.
I spotted the transistor radios.
The goods were priced in US dollars. I spotted one for a bit less than the $5 I had. I didn’t have to ask my parents if I could buy it. It was MY money.
I can’t express the freedom that gave me. While I dared not play the popular music stations within earshot of my parents, I did walk around with the radio next to my ear, listening to the contraband music. At the Maribyrnong Migrant Hostel, I walked its streets, glued to the radio. I was totally undiscriminating. It was all so new and strange. The Beatles She Loves You, Chapel of Love by The Dixie Cups, Eric Burden and the Animals House of the Rising Sun. Novelty songs like Hen-er-y The Eighth, The House of Johann Strauss, Roger Miller’s Dang Me.
I turned 13 a week or so after we moved into Surrey Hills. In the week leading up to my birthday, as we were sitting down to dinner, one of my sibs said, “Kelly will be a teenager on Friday!” Quite an exciting landmark, really.
Dad didn’t think so. He pounded his fits on the table. “She will NOT be a teenager!” he declared emphatically.
But I was. I walked the streets in the evenings, listening to Manfred Mann Do-Wah-Diddy, Roy Orbison Pretty Woman (a song I now find slightly creepy), The Supremes Where Did Our Love Go?, the quirky My Boy Lollipop and so much more!
I didn’t necessarily like all of it, but at least I could talk about it with the other teenagers.
When I was 15, living in Heathmont, Dad was still a sales rep with DHA. They had given him an EH Holden. It didn’t have a radio. He borrowed my transistor radio and propped it on the dashboard.
The summer was very hot.
One afternoon, I walked up the street towards our house. The Holden was parked out the front. I could see the radio on the dash but something wasn’t right about it. It was sagging.
The plastic cover had melted in the heat. Inside its leather casing, the radio was a misshapen mess.
I was bereft. I knew my parents didn’t have the money to replace it. I don’t remember Dad apologising, and I’m sure neither of them ever realised how much that little radio had meant to me.
