Geraldton Express and Murchison and Yalgo Goldfields Chronicler 23 December 1898, page 20
The New Chum Johnnie Raw or Bill McGee’s Mate
As told by a miner
He was an English new-churn, a reg’lar Johnnie Raw,
His fresh complexion told it, and the English coat he wore.
I was the first he spoke to. He saw me on the brace,
And said he’d asked the boss for work and that he’d got a place.
The “captain” owned he wanted men; two at any rate,
And bid him look around the camp, and try and find a mate.
“He wasn’t a mining man” he said, but was goin’ to give it a try.
And if he could find a decent pal, it would come to him by and by.
I told the lads in camp that night about the Jackeroo,
And the yarn he pitched me at the brace of what he was goin’ to do.
There were a score or more suggestions, and many a loud guffaw.
And a dozen methods mooted to teach the Johnnie Raw;
We chaffed and laughed about him until it was getting late.
When Bill McGee speaks up and says, “I’ve taken him for a mate,”
We stared at one another hard, but every tongue was still.
We thought that he was off his chump. but daren’t say so to Bill;
For he was a miner bred and born, as anyone could tell;
Could swing a hammer with either hand, and use his dukes as well.
So the school broke up in silence, for Bill was an awkward chap,
And we thought the wisest thing to do was to get away to nap.
Bill next day made good his word, for sure enough we saw
Him get his drills and go to work with the new-chum Johnnie Raw.
Time went on, and every day when we would pass the place.
Where Bill was putting down a shaft, saw Johnnie on the brace.
And one day, just at crib time, we’d fired, my mate and I,
And was getting out our tucker, when was heard a startled cry!
That something was wrong at No. 2 we in a moment saw,
For the cry for help that had seared us so, had come from Johnnie Raw.
We dropped our grub, and ran to help as slippery as soap,
An’ were just a-climin up the dump when Jack goes down the rope;
We waited to hear the charge explode, and neither had ought to say;
But after a bit the signal comes to gently “haul away,”
We hauled away, my mate and I, till bound to the rope we see,
Bruised and tattered, and blood besmeared, our old friend Bill McGee.
He’d charged a hole, and lit the fuse, and was coming up on top;
When the hemp above the buck it broke, and Bill had a nasty drop.
Then Johnnie slides clean down the rope, full forty feet or more,
And he wasn’t hurt a great deal, but his hands were slightly tore.
He quickly cuts the spitting fuse. There was just two inches free,
A minute more meant certain death for himself and Bill McGee.
Bill wasn’t very badly hurt; he was cut about the head.
And in a week was strong enough to be up and out of bed;
And sitting round the fire one night – for we’d nothing else to do!
He told us how his life was saved by the new chum Jackeroo.
I was dazed he said, and couldn’t move, and felt like losing hope;
When like a bloomin meteor chaps, my mate came down the rope.
He cuts the fuse, then turns to me. I think I can hear him still,
As he said in his quiet, kindly way, are you very much hurted Bill?
I says I had a bit of a fall, and I feel a little queer:
But what in the name of mercy, lad. so quickly brought you here?
Most men would have stayed on top, and left me to my fate.
And he smiles and says ‘It’s nothing Bill. I was and am your mate.”
A year has passed since that occurred – a year and little more,
And today there ain’t a chap more liked than new chum Johnnie Raw!
Moya Sharp
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