This is a changing, living song with
variations creeping in, just like Davy
Lowston, or By the
Dry Cardronaand other sung-from-memory NZ
ballads. But the original was something like this, with the most
commonly sung verses being those two which celebrate the
pig-hunting and rugby rituals of young Kiwi males.
C
When you're huntin' in the mountains
F C
and your dogs put up a chase,
F C
And this porker's comin' at you
D7 G7
and he doesn't like your face
C
And you're runnin', and he's runnin',
F C
and he's crowdin' on the pace,
C G C
Well don't worry mate, she'll be right,
C G
She'll be right, mate, she'll be right.
G C
Don't worry mate, she'll be right.
C
You c'n get y'feed of pork
F C
when he slows down to a walk,
C G C
And don't worry mate, she'll be right.
Now you're loggin' on the saddle
and you're drivin' down the bluff
With a thousand feet of timber
bouncin' right behind your chuff,
And the clutch has started slippin',
and the brakes are worse than rough,
Well don't worry mate, she'll be right....
Give 'er all you can give 'er,
she'll just fly into the river,
And don't worry mate, she'll be right.
Well they've finished off yer forwards,
and yer backs are wearin' thin,
And the second spell's half over
and you've forty points to win,
And this hulkin' wing-three-quarter's
got his teeth stuck in your shin,
Well don't worry mate, she'll be right. ...
You won't worry who's the loser
when you meet down at the boozer,
So don't worry mate, she'll be right.
When you've had yer copper goin', and you've boiled a ton'a hops,
And you've brewed your brew and bottled 'er and hammered on the tops,
And your missus keeps on askin' where y' left your footie socks,
Well don't worry mate, she'll be right....
Shove a shot o' metho in and you'll swear you're drinkin' gin...
And don't worry mate, she'll be right.
Now you've slipped out on the missus, and you've gone to watch the race,
And you've spent her shoppin' money, and you didn't get a place,
And you're comin' home flat stoney, and she sees it on your face,
Well don't worry mate, she'll be right...
You can save a lot of trouble if you say you won the double,
So don't worry mate, she'll be right.
This song has continued to reflect our social
attitudes.
1960s
These were written by Sam
Sampson, (now, March 2000, living in the Stewart
Island) in Wellington in the mid 60's.
The 'Unit' is the electric railway to the Wellington
suburbs.
Now you're breasted up against the bar a supping on yer beer
And this burly bloody copper comes and whispers in yer ear
You're under 21 me lad! yer shouldn' be in here!
Well don't worry mate, she'll be right...
Slug anotha juga beer, sock the bugger in the ear,
(Or a 1970s version)
"Just kiss him on the ear and tell him you're a queer"
An' don't worry mate, she'll be right.
Now you've been down at the boozer since round half-past three,
And you stopped off at the pie-cart for to get yourself some tea.
Now you're sitting in the "Unit" just a busting for a pee
and DWMSBR
If you stand down by the door
you can piddle on the floor
So DWMSBR
Or if you studied Zoology at VUW
Now you're sitting in the lecture and you're sick of taking notes
And he's waffling on with spinal chords and intercourse in goats
Then he speaks of fornication and it raises all your hopes
So DWMSBR etc
Take your sheila out tonight, you can prove his theories right
And DWMSBR
1980s Julie and Murray Kilpatrick wrote some
protesters' verses during the violence of the 1981 Springbok
tour. These are their most evocative verses.
When you're marching in the protest and you're heading for the game
And in front of you's the Red Squad not looking very tame
And behind you are the Blue Squad and you're wondering why you came
Well don't worry mate, she'll be right. ...
Just duck and run for cover, they'll do battle with each other
So don't worry mate, she'll be right.
The coppers swing their batons just like a bloody mace.
So I went and bought a helmet for protection for me face.
Now I have the feeling I'm protecting the wrong place.
Don't worry etc.
Take your helmet off your head, put it lower down instead.
And don't worry etc.
And I wrote this around 1990.(JA)
You've been in the fishing contest at the beach from dawn 'til dark
An'now yer skinny-dipping in the breakers for a lark
When this big thing bumps yer shoulder and yer know you've met a shark
Well don't worry etc.
Jus'punch it hard between the eyes, and you'll win the fishing prize
O don't worry etc.
By Holly De Ket, Diana Balham, Ruth Birnie, Peter
Bayliss, Murray and Julie Kilpatrick.
The Tahora folk festival is an annual camp of dedicated
folkies on Kerry Turner's farm in inland Taranaki. During
the 92-93 festival, the heavens opened up for almost the
entire duration. There was lots of talk about building an
ark, and in the end Kerry got the group to erect three
sheets of ply up on the redoubt, paint it as an ark, and
it was set alight at midnight.
The pirate was Robin Brew who entertained the kids young
and old, Freda was Ron Craig, Annie was Annie Lang ( the
camp mother), Link was Link Mail.
The song draws from incidents spanning a few years plus
a little fantasy.
1. Well we pitched camp at Tahora, in the pouring bloody rain.
We prayed for warmth and sunshine, but the rain came down again.
The river starts arising and the tents sail down the drain.
Well don't worry mate, ...
The camps awash with ooze, but still there's lots of booze.
Don't worry ...
2. The rain won't last for very long, so Kerry understands.
But still he's built an ark to preserve our happy land.
And two by two we carry it up to the promised land.
Well don't worry mate...
With Captain Kerry Noah Turner, we'll sail to terra firma.
Don't worry...
3. Some years ago our Annie, made up a water slide.
Used all the camp's detergent, to give the kids a ride.
And then it was the big kids turn, to massage their backsides.
When Wayne Morris made his leap, he took a whole tent in one sweep.
4. A rope was tied onto a branch, high in the old gum tree.
You watch the kids climb up the hill, to get a buzz for free.
Then your daughter says "You're next Dad!" and you really want to flee.
To clear the stump you hauls, or you'll catch it in the ...end!
5. The woolshed stinks appalling, but the lads don't give a jot.
With guitars and songs and whistles, they entertain us lot.
Till a marinated pirate ties them all up in a knot.
If life gets a little queer, go to Freda for a beer.
6. The countdown's up for midnight, and your standing on the grass.
Sing Auld Lang Syne then hugging, and the kisses start to pass.
But one step in the mud, and you'll wind up on your ...own!
You'll be sitting in the goo, and a friend will drop in to.
7. We're hung up and hung over, all drip dried and wrung out.
Foods gone off, the lads are tired, and of booze we now have nought.
There's mud from here to glory, from the gateway to redoubt.
Let Kerry have no fear, for Tahora next New Year.
DON'T WORRY MATE WE'LL BE BACK.
Mid 1990s this verse was written and sung
by Mike Moroney in response to Jenny Shipley's proposed
national identity card, the Kiwi Card, now known as the
Community Servics Card.
When you're standing in the dole queue with the other people there
There's a hippie and a yuppie and a punk with spiky hair
And the girl behind the counter just doesn't seem to care
Well don't worry mate, she'll be right.........
If you think that times are hard,
Then just flash your Kiwi Card
And don't worry mate, she'll be right.
In 2001, Green activists tried
to stop genetically engineered plants and animals
experiments from being carried out in NZ.
So you've bought some G-E porkers and you locked them in your sty
But piles of pungent pig-pats are now raining from the sky;
With genetic engineering, those pigs can really fly!
But don't worry mate, G-E's right.
G-E's right mate, G-E's right...
With a little bit of luck, you'll get your bacon from a duck!
So don't worry mate, G-E's right.
Brian NcNamara of Marlborough wrote-
Well the flamin world's gone crazy and there's GE everywhere
They've engineered a new hop to put into the beer
The quinine gene for bitterness has made it taste all queer
But don't worry mate G-E's right
Just fix a rimu gene in good old NZ green (cannabis)
And don't worry mate she'll be right
Hilary from Hamilton wrote-
Out into my veggie garden, I wandered one fine morn
To check out all my lettuces, potatoes and my corn
But standing in the middle was a cow with one big horn -
Still don't worry mate GEs right,
I get milk now from my peas and the caulis grow self-cheesed,
So don't worry mate, GE's right
I wrote this after Arab activists demolished the World Trade
Center in New York in 2001. It exemplifies
the eternally optimistic Kiwi trait of being able to
improvise with whatever is at hand in order to survive in a
difficult environment. (JA)
So you've carried up your back-pack to the top of this great tower
When a jet plane slams in to it at four hundred miles an hour
And you hear the girders creaking -they'll give way in half an hour
Don't worry mate, she'll be right
A tent-fly works real beaut
As a Kiwi parachute
So don't worry mate, she'll be right.
Fullers Ferries from Auckand to Waiheke Island had
reached their use-by date by the 2020s,
and breakdowns became more and more common. Thanks to Sammy
Leary for these verses.
Well you're waiting for the ferry,
standing grumpy in the rain
Quite desperate to get back home
to Rocky Bay again
And though through the nose you paid,
The bloody ferry’s been delayed,
But don’t worry mate she’ll be right
She be etc....
Bruce's chopper's parked close by,
Stand on its skid and you can fly
And don’t worry mate she’ll be right.
Well a smarmy suited git
goes and shoves into m' back
He's got the latest iPhone,
but manners he does lack
I felt he could use a swim,
So I pushed the bugger in,
But don’t worry mate she’ll be right…
When they've fished him from the bay,
in Auckland he can stay,
So don’t worry mate she’ll be right.
The Round Table fantasies of the New Right
could be exposed nicely with some new verses
of this song; "...We'll be Right, mate, we'll
be Right."
Not heavy sarcasm, more in the style of
that song about the radiation leak at Three
Mile Island ("You can go back to your homes
now citizens, everything is quite OK...")
