Was so great before the boom,
Just Old Joe and the Taylor’s,
And paddocks with heaps of room.
Across the road from our house,
Was, Webster’s, hundred-acre block?
Where Old Joe caught goldfinches,
For Chris Hackendorf to hock.
Scotch thistles formed the landscape,
And water was fairly rare,
But huge flocks of goldfinches,
Darted here and there.
Old Joe he knew the thistles,
Held that magic seed,
On which the profitable little goldfinch,
Would have to come and feed.
So Old Joe he showed some cunning,
And cleverly set his nets,
He knew to catch those goldfinches,
Would pay a lot of debts.