Here are the lyrics to the songs Michael introduced us to on Tuesday - I scanned them in. Plenty of scope for our own versions I think :-)

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Kieran,
Co-Treasurer

At Tauherenikau there's a fine whare-tutae:
The seat gives a view of unusual beautae.

So pass the roll over and pass the roll over,
Pass the roll over, each man in his turn.

We gave great attention to building and siting
An idyllic spot that was truly inviting.

So pass the roll over, etc.

We had mathematicians of great perspicacity
Carefully calculate cubic capacity.

So pass the roll over, etc.

They worked it all out with their slide-rules and logs:
The space for an infinite number of bogs.

So pass the roll over, etc.

They made due corrections for seasonal shrinkage,
For seepage of water and losses by stinkage.

So pass the roll over, etc.

They kept, a great chart in indelible lipstick,
Recording diurnal degrees on the dipstick.

So pass the roll over, etc.

And then one week-end came a big working party
Who worked very hard and who ate very hearty.

So pass the roll over, etc.

Dehydrated spuds and dehydrated steak an'
Dehydrated onions and rashers of bacon.

So pass the roll over, etc.

We thought for dessert there'd be nothing so nice as
Some figs and some prunes with our dried apple slices.

So pass the roll over, etc.

And all the night through there were torches a-flashing,
Groaning and cursing and branches a-crashing.

So pass the roll over, etc.

At sunrise we saw, to our shame and our sorrow,
What had been a hole, a great heap on the morrow.

So pass the roll over, etc.

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Kieran,
Co-Treasurer

Tune: Lieber Augustine

I heard this sad song — oh, in the old Orongorongo:
"There'll be no more double-bunking, double-bunking for me!"
 
I said to the vocalist, "Oh, why do you so insist,    
There'll be no more double-bunking, double-bunking for me?"

There'll be no more double-bunking, double-bunking, double-bunking,
There'll be no more double-bunking, double-bunking, for me.

Oh I've had a gutsful
Of tramps where the hut's full.

There'll be no more, etc.

I've weakened and lost weight,
I've ruined my prostate,

There'll be no more, etc.

My mouth's full of fur too,
I can't eat my burgoo.

There'll be no more, etc.

I'm washed out like a dish-rag,
I've ruptured my sleeping-bag,

There'll be no more, etc.

Henceforth and hereafter
I'll sleep on a rafter,
On a peak or a pinnacle,
Or under a waterfall,
On sand or on shingle:
BUT I'M GOING TO SLEEP SINGLE."

There'll be no more, etc.

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Kieran,
Co-Treasurer

If you stand on Lambton Quay,
On Friday night then you will see,
in rain and snow the trampers go,
To the Tararua Ranges.

Away, away with billy and pack,
A rollicking down the mountain track,
We'll all get lost and never come back,
In the Tararua Ranges.

Hear them holler and hear them bawl,
As up the Marchant Ridge they crawl,  
And all they see is nothing at all,
In the Tararua Ranges.

Away, Away, etc.

Into a hut we go to sup
A dirty plate, a greasy cup,
The girls will have to smarten up,
In the Tararua Ranges.

Away Away, etc.

The Secretary can't read or write,
She sleeps all day and eats all night,
And if she could, she'd ride a bike,
In the Tararua Ranges.

Away, Away, etc.

The President is old and grey,
They say-he's ninety-nine today,
He's reached that age by staying away,
From the Tararua Ranges

Away, Away, etc.

The Treasurer went on the bash,
And drank up all the available cash,
And now he's got big rocks to smash,
In the Tararua Ranges.

Away, Away, etc.

The Chief Guide's getting old and grey.
He's lost the track three times today
He'll never find it anyway.
In the Tararua Ranges.

Away, Away, etc.

So if you're under ninety-three,
And find your life a misery,
You'd better come along with me,
To the Tararua Ranges.

Away, Away, etc.

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Kieran,
Co-Treasurer

One day in the summer as daylight was fading,
I went for a walk by the river alone;
There I met an old man who was weeping and wailing
And rocking a cradle that was not his own.

Singing, aidle-o-boy, sweet baby lie easy,
Your true daddy will never be known.
There'll be weeping and wailing
And rocking a cradle of somebody's baby
That is not your own.

When first I married your innocent mother
I thought, like a fool, I was blessed with a wife;
But to my misfortune and sad lamentation
She turned out the curse and the plague of my life.

Singing aidle-o-boy, etc.

'Twas every night to a ball or a party,
She left me here rocking the cradle alone;
An innocent baby now calls me his daddy,
And little he knows that I am not his own.

Singing aidle-o-boy, etc.

So all you young fellows who one day may marry,
Just take, my advice and leave women alone,
For by the Lord Harry if ever you marry,
She'll bring you a baby and swear it's your own.

Singing aidle-o-boy, etc.

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Kieran,
Co-Treasurer

Tune: The Bluetail Fly

Way down south in Jackson's Bay,
There lived a miner old and grey,
And to his hut so warm and dry
There came each night a Big Sandfly.

Tucker all gone, but I don't care!
Tucker all gone, but I don't care!
Tucker all gone, but I don't care!
Goodbye, Big Sandfly.

Then one day the old man said,
Far too long on me you've fed,
If I starve then you will die —
I've gotta to get rid of you, Big Sandfly!

Tucker all gone, etc.

This old man refused to eat
He drank no beer and he ate no meat;
They both grew thinner by and by,
The old man and the Big Sandfly.

Tucker all gone, etc.

Then one day the old man died;
They buried his billies by his side,
And on a stone they carved with pride:
"The victim of a Big Sandfly."

Tucker all gone, etc.

Sad the mourners turned to go,
When they heard a voice sing soft and low,
And from the tombstone standing nigh,
There came the song of the Big Sandfly.

Tucker all gone, but I don't care!
Tucker all gone, but I don't care!
Bury him deeply as you can —
For I'm going to get another old man!

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Kieran,
Co-Treasurer

When Moses was a little child
He floated down the River Nile
And Pharaoh's daughter, found him there
A-playing with a bottle of beer.

Said Pharaoh's daughter tenderly
"Come choose you now twixt beer and me"
And Moses answered with a sigh:
"I guess I've got to bid-the booze goodbye!"

"So goodbye, booze don't want you any more,
My drinking days are nearly o'er;
We've had good times, you can't deny.
So goodbye, booze, I'm going to die.

"And when I die, don't bury me at all,
Just pickle my bones in alcohol
Put a bottle of beer at my head and feet,
And then I know my bones will keep."

"And when I die, don't bury me at all,
Just pickle my bones in alcohol;
Put a bottle of beer at my feet and head,
If I don't stir you'll know I'm dead."

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Kieran,
Co-Treasurer

There's an ice-axe hanging on the wall,
But it's used for gardening if at all,
No more he heeds the mountain's call,
There's his ice-axe hanging on the wall.

There's a nylon rope above the lawn,
It's looking rather frayed and torn,
The nappies that his baby's worn,
Hang from that rope above the lawn.

His boots lie on the toolshed floor,
His pack's behind the garage door,
He never wears it any more,
His boots lie on the toolshed floor.

And his ice-axe hangs upon the wall,
It's used for gardening if at all,
He too, has answered to the call,
He got married in the fall.

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Kieran,
Co-Treasurer

Air: Spinning Wheel

I left my young love by the river reclining,
The tears in her eyes in the moonlight were shining,
I told her I loved her, my love would fade never,
But the snows on the  mountains are calling me ever.

Roaming O, roaming O, up in the ice and snow,
Rolleay, rolleay, ice-axe and good belay,
Let me be free, with the mountains for company,
Let me go climbing where the blue hills are shining.

The love of a maiden is ever so tender,
The sweet words she whispers you'll always remember;
One day she'll forget you and think of you never,
But the snows of the mountains are with you forever.

Roaming O, Roaming O!, etc.

I'll never be rich and I'll never be married,
For the joys of a home-life too long have I tarried;
Whenever I promise no more will I wander
The snows of the mountains start calling me yonder.

Roaming O, Roaming  O! etc.

The years roll along and my life is declining,
Beyond the blue ranges the snows are still shining;
I'll start my last journey, regrets I'll have never,
For the snows on the mountains are with me forever.

Roaming O, Roaming O! etc.

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Kieran,
Co-Treasurer