From the 1890s to the 1920s it was common for Aboriginal workers to be paid only in rations of food and clothing. During the 1920s some workers began to receive minimal wages. The 1936 Native Affairs Act legally compelled pastoralists to provide shelter and meet the medical needs of their workers, but this was never enforced by the government.
Aboriginal stockmen were housed in corrugated iron humpies, without floors, lighting, sanitation, furniture or cooking facilities. It was illegal for the Aboriginal people to leave their place of employment, and it was even illegal to pay them wages equal to the white people's.
In 1942, there was a secret Aboriginal law meeting to discuss a strike proposal, an idea first discussed by white labourer and prospector Don McLeod and Aboriginal people Clancy McKenna, Dooley Bin Bin and Nyamal Elder Peter "Kangushot" Coppin from the Pilbara community who were instrumental in calling together the 1942 meeting.
200 law men from 23 Aboriginal groups gathered, and after six weeks a consensus was reached to begin a strike on May 1, the international day of workers' struggle and the beginning of the shearing season, thereby putting maximum pressure on the squatters. However, the strike was postponed until after the Second World War had ended.
Clancy and Dooley and Don McLeod
Walked by the wurlies when the wind was loud,
And their voice was new as the fresh sap running,
And we keep on fighting and we keep on coming.
Don McLeod beat at a mulga bush
And a lot of queer things came out in a rush.
Like mongrel dogs with their flattened tail
They sneaked him off to the Hedland jail.
In the big black jail where the moonlight fell
Clancy and Dooley sat in the cell.
In the big white court crammed full with hate
They said, "We wouldn't scab on a mate."
In the great hot quiet they said it loud
And smiled in the eyes of Don McLeod,
And the working-men all over the land
Heard what they shouted and shook their hand.
The sheep's wool dragged and the squatters swore
And talked nice words till their tongues got sore
And their bellies swelled with so much lies
But the blackfellers shooed them off like flies.
The sheep got lost on the squatters' run.
The shearing season was nearly done.
Said the squatters eaten up with greed,
"We'll pay good wages and give good feed."
The blackfellers sheared the wool and then
Got their wages like working-men.
The squatters' words were stiff and sore,
"We won't pay wages like that no more."
The white boss said-STAY OUT OF TOWN,
And they ground with their boots to keep us down.
"We'll starve them out until they crawl
Back on their bellies, we'll starve 'em all."
The sun was blood on the bare sheep-runs,
The women whispered, "They'll come with guns."
But we marched to our camp, and our step was proud,
And we sat down there and we laughed out loud.
Clancy arid Dooley and Don McLeod,
Walked by the wurlies when the wind was loud.
And their voice was new as the fresh sap running,
And we keep on fighting and we keep on coming.
Don McLeod beat at a mulga bush
And a lot of queer things came out in a rush.
Like mongrel dogs with their flattened tail
They sneaked him off to the Hedland jail.
The young men marched down the road like thunder
Kicked up the dust and padded it under.
They marched into town like a whirlwind cloud
OPEN UP THE JAIL AND LET OUT DON McLEOD.
The squatters are riding round in the night Crying,
"Load up your guns and creep out quiet.
Let's teach these niggers that they can't rob
The big white bosses of thirty bob."
Our young men are hunters, our old men make songs
And the words of our people are whiplashed with wrongs
In the tribes of our country they sing, and are proud
Of the Pilbarra men and the white man, McLeod.
Our voice is lightning all over the land
And we clench up our fists on the sweat of our hands
For the voice of the workers is thundering loud
FIGHT WITH CLANCY AND DOOLEY AND DON McLEOD.
Don McLeod beat at a mulga bush
And a lot of queer things came out in a rush.
Like mangy dogs with their flattened tail
They sneaked him off to the Hedland jail.
But Clancy and Dooley and Don McLeod
Walk by the wurlies when the wind is loud.
And their voice is new as the fresh sap running,
And we keep on fighting and we keep on coming.
Aboriginal stockmen were housed in corrugated iron humpies, without floors, lighting, sanitation, furniture or cooking facilities. It was illegal for the Aboriginal people to leave their place of employment, and it was even illegal to pay them wages equal to the white people's.
In 1942, there was a secret Aboriginal law meeting to discuss a strike proposal, an idea first discussed by white labourer and prospector Don McLeod and Aboriginal people Clancy McKenna, Dooley Bin Bin and Nyamal Elder Peter "Kangushot" Coppin from the Pilbara community who were instrumental in calling together the 1942 meeting.
200 law men from 23 Aboriginal groups gathered, and after six weeks a consensus was reached to begin a strike on May 1, the international day of workers' struggle and the beginning of the shearing season, thereby putting maximum pressure on the squatters. However, the strike was postponed until after the Second World War had ended.
Clancey and Dooley and Don Mcleod©Dorothy Hewett 1946
Clancy and Dooley and Don McLeod
Walked by the wurlies when the wind was loud,
And their voice was new as the fresh sap running,
And we keep on fighting and we keep on coming.
Don McLeod beat at a mulga bush
And a lot of queer things came out in a rush.
Like mongrel dogs with their flattened tail
They sneaked him off to the Hedland jail.
In the big black jail where the moonlight fell
Clancy and Dooley sat in the cell.
In the big white court crammed full with hate
They said, "We wouldn't scab on a mate."
In the great hot quiet they said it loud
And smiled in the eyes of Don McLeod,
And the working-men all over the land
Heard what they shouted and shook their hand.
The sheep's wool dragged and the squatters swore
And talked nice words till their tongues got sore
And their bellies swelled with so much lies
But the blackfellers shooed them off like flies.
The sheep got lost on the squatters' run.
The shearing season was nearly done.
Said the squatters eaten up with greed,
"We'll pay good wages and give good feed."
The blackfellers sheared the wool and then
Got their wages like working-men.
The squatters' words were stiff and sore,
"We won't pay wages like that no more."
The white boss said-STAY OUT OF TOWN,
And they ground with their boots to keep us down.
"We'll starve them out until they crawl
Back on their bellies, we'll starve 'em all."
The sun was blood on the bare sheep-runs,
The women whispered, "They'll come with guns."
But we marched to our camp, and our step was proud,
And we sat down there and we laughed out loud.
Clancy arid Dooley and Don McLeod,
Walked by the wurlies when the wind was loud.
And their voice was new as the fresh sap running,
And we keep on fighting and we keep on coming.
Don McLeod beat at a mulga bush
And a lot of queer things came out in a rush.
Like mongrel dogs with their flattened tail
They sneaked him off to the Hedland jail.
The young men marched down the road like thunder
Kicked up the dust and padded it under.
They marched into town like a whirlwind cloud
OPEN UP THE JAIL AND LET OUT DON McLEOD.
The squatters are riding round in the night Crying,
"Load up your guns and creep out quiet.
Let's teach these niggers that they can't rob
The big white bosses of thirty bob."
Our young men are hunters, our old men make songs
And the words of our people are whiplashed with wrongs
In the tribes of our country they sing, and are proud
Of the Pilbarra men and the white man, McLeod.
Our voice is lightning all over the land
And we clench up our fists on the sweat of our hands
For the voice of the workers is thundering loud
FIGHT WITH CLANCY AND DOOLEY AND DON McLEOD.
Don McLeod beat at a mulga bush
And a lot of queer things came out in a rush.
Like mangy dogs with their flattened tail
They sneaked him off to the Hedland jail.
But Clancy and Dooley and Don McLeod
Walk by the wurlies when the wind is loud.
And their voice is new as the fresh sap running,
And we keep on fighting and we keep on coming.
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