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Gather round people I'll tell you a story |
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An eight year long story of power and pride |
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British Lord Vestey and Vincent Lingiari |
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Were opposite men on opposite sides |
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Vestey was fat with money and muscle |
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Beef was his business, broad was his door |
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Vincent was lean and spoke very little |
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He had no bank balance, hard dirt was his floor |
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From little things big things grow |
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From little things big things grow |
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Gurindji were working for nothing but rations |
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Where once they had gathered the wealth of the land |
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Daily the pressure got tighter and tighter |
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Gurindju decided they must make a stand |
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They picked up their swags and started off walking |
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At Wattie Creek they sat themselves down |
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Now it don't sound like much but it sure got tongues talking |
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Back at the homestead and then in the town |
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From little things big things grow |
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From little things big things grow |
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Vestey man said I'll double your wages |
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Eighteen quid a week you'll have in your hand |
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Vincent said "uhuh, we're not talking about wages |
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We're sitting right here till we get our land" |
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Vestey man roared and Vestey man thundered |
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"You don't stand the chance of a cinder in snow" |
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Vince said "if we fall others are rising" |
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From little things big things grow |
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From little things big things grow |
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Then Vincent Lingiari boarded an airplane |
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Landed in Sydney, big city of lights |
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And daily he went round softly speaking his story |
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To all kinds of men from all walks of life |
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And Vincent sat down with big politicians |
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"This affair" they told him "is a matter of state. |
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Let us sort it out, your people are hungry" |
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Vincent said "no thanks, we know how to wait" |
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From little things big things grow |
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From little things big things grow |
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Then Vincent Lingiari returned in an airplane |
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Back to his country once more to sit down |
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And he told his people "let the stars keep on turning |
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We have friends in the south, in the cities and towns." |
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Eight years went by, eight long years of waiting |
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Till one day a tall stranger appeared in the land |
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And he came with lawyers and he came with great ceremony |
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And through Vincent's fingers poured a handful of sand |
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From little things big things grow |
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From little things big things grow |
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That was the story of Vincent Lingairi |
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But this is the story of something much more |
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How power and privilege can not move a people |
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Who know where they stand, and stand in the law |
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From little things big things grow |
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From little things big things grow |
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From little things big things grow |
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From little things big things grow |
