They’re a bloody nuisance.
They wander about, through our flocks
They steal our crops
What I don’t get is they have this connection with the land and yet I don’t see any evidence of them owning anything.
There are no fences.
You ask them and they point at rocks and trees and creeks.
They are blight on this land. What good are they?
They have no modesty.
They are never in the same place; every time I go out I have to find them all over again.
They don’t grow anything.
They jabber away I never know what they are saying.
They are ignorant savages.
Though their women are all right, I can go for some of that black velvet.
Tomorrow lads, we act.
But the law, what about the law.
We are at Myall Creek we’re days away from the law.
And who among us is going to tell?
That’s a good point.
We do it on one action, no witnesses, no survivors, we burn the bodies.
No one will ever know.
Myall Creek Massacre involved the killing of up to 30 unarmed Indigenous Australians by ten white Europeans and one black African on 10 June 1838 at the Myall Creek near Bingara in northern New South Wales. After two trials, seven of the 11 colonists involved in the killings were found guilty of murder and hanged.