The Ballad of Urquhart Street
Words: Ken Mansell (25th anniversary March 1, 1994)
Tune: Variant of 'Hey Johnnie Cope’
Three young boys went out one night
The Northcote moon was shining bright
And Urquhart Street it seemed just right
To paint the bridge that morning
They ventured near they ventured far
In their little mini car
Twenty signs went up – ‘Free Zarb!’
On that fateful morning
All along the Hurstbridge line
Desailly, Armstrong drew their signs
Mansell’s foot kept him behind
To watch and give a warning
Hey Johnnie Zarb! So here’s to you!
Your generation honours you
Give me paint and a paintbrush too
And I’ll write your name this morning
Down by Merri Creek they’d gone
They found a bridge to put it on
Desailly stretched to paint ‘Free John Z....’
Beneath the bridge that morning
A blue light peeped to stop the fun
The coppers pounced – the sign half-done!
A poison foot stopped Mansell’s run
Around the bridge that morning
Armstrong scampered to the rails
Hanging by his fingernails
Desailly, Mansell went to gaol
At Northcote ‘til next morning
Hey Johnnie Zarb! So here’s to you!
Your generation honours you
Give me paint and a paintbrush too
And I’ll write your name this morning
Finger-prints to break their pride
Forbade a call for help outside
The cell smelt like a skunk had died
And they lay there ‘til the morning
A divvy van arrived at dawn
To Pentridge Gaol they both were borne
Stripped and kicked – with crewcuts shorn!
And bailed out after morning
Then to Northcote Court they came
The Judge he said ‘You’re both insane!
Don’t let us catch you there again!
Or painting in the morning’.
Hey Johnnie Zarb! So here’s to you!
Your generation honours you
Give me paint and a paintbrush too
And I’ll write your name this morning
Two-hundred dollars was the fee
The news spread to The Bakery
‘We will not let this outrage be
So rally in the morning!’
And such becomes such legal gents
The Judge who said they had no sense
Had a great big sign drawn on his fence
At three o’clock one morning
They did not blow out Pfeifer’s brains
They gave him paint for all his pains
A footpath graced with great white stains
For his breakfast in the morning
Hey Johnnie Zarb! So here’s to you!
Your generation honours you
Give me paint and a paintbrush too
And I’ll write your name this morning
The cops were there – and CDA
To watch the little paint display
Up stepped a man from Adelaide
Who’d come that very morning
Rob Tillett was the man in town
The last three letters he wrote down
Three months prison from the Crown
For ‘ ‘A, R, B’’ that morning
They hailed him here they hailed him there
This poet was of courage rare
Joined John Zarb in convict wear
For defying Pfeifer’s warning
Hey Johnnie Zarb! So here’s to you!
Your generation honours you
Give me paint and a paintbrush too
And I’ll write your name this morning