Joice Nankivell-Loch by Margaret Bradford Way back in 1880 on a cane farm in Nth Queensland A great Australian woman was born. Until the age of thirty all she knew was grinding poverty. As from farm to useless farm she was torn. Bone weary every night she’d make the time to write With farm chores and sick creatures in her care. This hardship suffered as a youth prepared her for the naked truth Of war-torn Europe, poverty despair. This compassionate woman, Joice Nankivell-Loch No task was too great for her they say, but Ask any Australian. You’ll find no one’s even heard of her. Yet in Greece she’s hailed as heroine today. To write of Ireland’s troubles she ventured in the twenties. But soon became involved with the IRA And impartial though she tried to be, with husband she was forced to flee With Quakers of to Europe far away. Here famine followed WW1 where many homeless refugees In Poland led them to volunteer While hungry and war weary beat a path up to her door She faced famine and disease without fear. This compassionate ..... She saw the fear in parent’s eyes, scared their kids would not survive. That memory would haunt her through the years So many orphaned kids she saved, Greek victims of the Turks. But on she worked exhausted close to tears. Greek mothers, hungry, desperate turned to Joyce for a solution. So a rug-weaving co-operative she began. Her fame as ‘Lady in the tower’ spread throughout the land There in Greece where she finally made her home. This compassionate .....

Mum Shirl Margaret Bradford Mum Shirl! What a girl! What an inspiration to her race. In her crowded kitchen cooking for the hungry. Listening to the lonely, sheltering the homeless. In a house she’s paying off on her pension. But who gets the handouts now. The survivor in an urban ghetto? Yes. Who gets the handouts now? Not Shirl. What a girl! Mum Shirl! What a girl! Reared thirteen children on her own. Two of them are hers, but unloved unemployed kids of every race and colour. Know they’ll get a feed and shelter and a bed at Shirl’s place. But who gets the handouts now. She’s not after publicity or honour. Yes. Who gets the handouts now? Not Shirl. What a girl! Mum Shirl! What a girl! She visits all the Murrays in gaols. From Grafton to Glenn Innes, Bathurst down to Goulburn. No discriminating. They know they can trust her. Gives them strength to face the world. But who gets the handouts now. She’s been doing this now for thirty years. Yes. Who gets the handouts now? Not Shirl. What a girl! Mum Shirl! What a girl! Spirit never daunted she fights on. Her body’s wearing out. She’s not getting any younger. Big boys want to meet her cause she’s known round the country. No one else could do what Shirl’s done. But who gets the handouts now. Will receptions and medals really help her. Yes. Who gets the handouts now? Not Shirl. What a girl!

A Heroine of Mine by Judy Small She was a highborn lady from the gentry on the land. She never had known poverty but she seemed to understand. That her privilege depended on the labour of the poor. And she spent her life in working just to even up the score. She married a young lawyer and chief justice he became. She could have spent her whole life in the shelter of his name. But not for her the glory of reflections in the glass. She saw the vast injustice and she couldn't let it pass. CHORUS She was an inspiration to the women of her time. And Jessie Street will always be a heroine of mine. She never had to work but still she fought for equal pay. And she fought for Aborigines to the silver-tails' dismay. She was a woman for the people, her commitment clear and strong. And she used her wealth and influence just to push the cause along. She saw the waste of human life in wars that make men rich Her work for peace was endless and they put her on the list. They branded her a traitor called her communist and more. But Jessie's voice was never stilled against the crime of war. CHORUS…She was an…..

Wandering Girl by Margaret Bradford Mission life was full of rules and routine long, rows of big brown eyes waiting in fear. Glenyse knew that if she spoke at meal times From the nuns shed get a clip around the ear. At the native camp her mum remembers her baby taken from her loving arms’ Sixteen summers later, her babe a young lady, far away a house wife for white ma’ms. Chorus… Hey You! My dark servant she’d call me. It seemed she was afraid to use my name. As I cleaned and cooked and washed there in that grand white house. She made me feel my colour was my shame. Speak only when you’re asked the mission taught her. In silence obey orders they’d been warned. But Glenyse with her happy disposition would toil and plod all day from early morn. Parties meant excitement and new faces, shyly watching guests arrive in style Her mistress shouting orders, scowling disapproval, yet to her friends she’d have a ready smile. Chorus Not for her a bedroom in that grand house. Like a dog box, her room behind the shed. Her only friend was Bill the kind old gardener. “You deserve much better lassie” he once said. Courage to defy that white boss lady grew with each humiliating tear. Packed her few possessions, off to find a new life. No longer would she cringe and hide in fear. Chorus “Hey you! White lady” I called her. ”Why are you afraid to use my name.? I won’t clean and cook and wash there in your grand white house. No longer is my colour my shame. I now know that my colour’s not to blame.

The Ballad of Janet Oakden A Song by Pip James Let me tell you 'bout a woman, Janet Oakden is her name
She came here from England, just to drive a train
She started as a steward, and why I cannot tell
When she tried to join a union, the men all ran like hell Chorus
Janet Oakden, Janet Oakden
You should be very proud
With the odds stacked against you
Your spirit was not cowed The union said "We'll help you, but let us make this clear
The railway wives won't like to see their husbands placed so near
The feminine temptation a woman would present
You must have separate quarters, so morals won't get bent" They raised up great objections why she can't drive a train
"You can't lift up the engine, or undertake the strain
Of toting all the fireman's gear upon your fragile back, What happens if your nails should break, your make-up start to crack?" But Janet was too wily for all those doubting men
She took herself to driver’s school, and answered back again
Now she can be a driver, and fill a driver's shoes
This courageous woman has earned the right to pay her union dues

Thanacoupie Margaret Bradford Flower of the Wattle, Thanacoupie Love flows from your hands Flower of the Wattle, Thanacoupie Love flows from your hands Her image a circle in clay. A symbol of love for all people on earth. Dreamtime legends survive in her pots that travel the world. Flower of the…… your hands Her Thanaquith tribe lost their soul When bauxite was mined from their land at Cape York But in clay their culture’s preserved. Undaunted by 200 years Flower of the…… your hands Reading the flowers and seasons Living as one with the birds and the trees. At peace with the great spirit mother For 40,000 years Flower of the…… your hands

Georgiana Molloy Margaret Bradford CHORUS:    Georgiana  woman of  botany!   Georgiana  woman of  botany! …..   Georgiana   Molloy..   A woman before her time,  in the year of 1829;   She emigrated to  Australia as the wife of Captain John Molloy. Soon after landing her first baby born on the beach,   no medical help within reach In a country so untamed and strange  she was  never prepared for this change;  Till the strain of constant childbearing finally took its toll. CHORUS    How could she see what her life here would  be  for a lady from England’s green shore But never deterred the flora unique just inspired  her to seek more.  Though a busy mother and wife collecting flowers was her passion in life While settlers  only saw poor grazing land, Georgiana saw the beauty of flowers To find that rare plant she’d search for hours.   CHORUS Aborigines who knew the land willingly lent her a hand With a baby on her hip and another hanging on behind. Botanists in England welcomed her new findings, Her careful packaging ensured they survived   So you can see them still today…… in Kew gardens on display  As pristine…  as when they first arrived. CHORUS…. So if you’re out walking in the bush one day & you see our floral blooms on display give a thought to the woman who inspired us all preserving them for everyone today. . Georgiana Molloy… (1805–1843) amateur botanist, came to Western Australia in 1829. Life was lonely and hard as a young mother and wife, but she used the knowledge of the local Indigenous people to collect and identify the rare native plants which were keenly sought after by botanists in England. Too often seeds and plants were poorly consigned from the antipodes and did not survive the shipping hazards; but Georgiana’s seeds were noted among English enthusiasts for their freshness and careful packing.  Ref: ‘The Mind that Shines ‘ by Bernice Barry Georgiana Molloy Margaret Bradford CHORUS:    Georgiana  woman of  botany!   Georgiana  woman of  botany! …..   Georgiana   Molloy..   A woman before her time,  in the year of 1829;   She emigrated to  Australia as the wife of Captain John Molloy. Soon after landing her first baby born on the beach,   no medical help within reach In a country so untamed and strange  she was  never prepared for this change;  Till the strain of constant childbearing finally took its toll. CHORUS    How could she see what her life here would  be  for a lady from England’s green shore But never deterred the flora unique just inspired  her to seek more.  Though a busy mother and wife collecting flowers was her passion in life While settlers  only saw poor grazing land, Georgiana saw the beauty of flowers To find that rare plant she’d search for hours.   CHORUS Aborigines who knew the land willingly lent her a hand With a baby on her hip and another hanging on behind. Botanists in England welcomed her new findings, Her careful packaging ensured they survived   So you can see them still today…… in Kew gardens on display  As pristine…  as when they first arrived. CHORUS…. So if you’re out walking in the bush one day & you see our floral blooms on display give a thought to the woman who inspired us all preserving them for everyone today.