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The words of celebrated Australian writer Dorothy Hewitt and the tune by Mike Leydon have combined to become a classic in the folk field of song. Life for the under privileged near the industrial city of Newcastle New South Wales during the depression of the early 20th Century is made real for us.
GUITAR :Graham Seal,  BASS: Ross Mc Gregor.

 

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WEEVILS IN THE FLOUR         

Hewitt/Leydon

On an island in a river, how that bitter river ran.
I grew on scraps of charity in the best way that you can.
On an island in a river where I grew to be a man.

For dole-bread is bitter bread, bitter bread and sour.
There's grief in the taste of it, there's weevils in the flour.
There's weevils in the flour.

And just across the river stood the mighty B.H.P
Poured pollution on the water, poured the lead of misery,
And its smoke was black as Hades rolling hungry to the sea.

In those humpies by the river, we lived on dole and stew,
While just across the river those greedy smoke stacks grew.
And the hunger of the many fed the bellies of the few.

On an island in the river how that bitter river ran,
It broke the banks of charity and baked the bread of man.
On that island in the river where I grew to be a man

For dole-bread is bitter bread, there's weevils in the flour
But men grow strong as iron upon, black bread and sour,
Black bread and sour.

 
 
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