Gentle Annie

One of many Stephen Foster songs to go bush and become translated into the Australian vernacular until they only bear a passing resemblance to the original.


The harvest time's come, gentle Annie,

And your wild oats are all scattered round the field.

You'll be anxious to know, gentle Annie,

How your little crop of oats is going to yield.


Your mutton's very sweet, gentle Annie,

And I'm sure it can't be packed in New South Wales,

But you'd better put a fence around the cabbage,

Or they'll all get eaten up by the snails.


You'll take my advice, gentle Annie,

And you'd better watch old Jack, he’s going' away

With his knapsack thrown over his shoulder,

For he stole some knives and forks the other day.


The bullocks they are yoked, gentle Annie,

For you know with you I can no longer stay.

So I'll bid you adieu, gentle Annie,

Till we meet again another threshing day.


So I'll bid you farewell, gentle Annie,

For you know with you that I can stay no more.

Yes, I'll bid you adieu, gentle Annie,

You’re the little dark eyed girl I do adore.