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There’s a bluestone building near the Calder, east of Castlemaine,
One hundred yards back off the highway, beyond a tree filled lane. 
For one hundred years this building stood alone at Faraday
serving as the schoolhouse where, the kids would learn and play. 

Six children and their teacher - the final class at Faraday,
now live in our folklore that will never fade away.
Survivors of a mass abduction in October seventy two;
held for a million dollar ransom in a hell that they went through.

School number seven nine seven was the setting for this crime.
Perfect with its seclusion; two desperate men had chose the time.
Ordering the teacher and six children into their van outside -
they were masked and carried guns so they wouldn’t be defied.

A ransom note left at the school warned in cold and chilling fact,
with threats of any apprehension how the captors would react.
There’d be a mass annihilation; what the State has got to do,
is be in Woodend at five a.m. for a scheduled rendezvous. 

The captors never fronted where they said they would that morn,
but good news travelled fast out of Lancefield just on dawn.
Mr. Thompson driving home to Melbourne was ecstatic when it come. 
Mary Gibbs the brave young teacher had kicked her way to freedom.

Stumbling onto rabbit shooters, when escaping while she could, 
after seventeen long hours held by Boland and Eastwood,
Mary Gibbs made sure her children were protected safe and sound,
but from that day at Faraday their little school closed down. 

Over years this bluestone school has been carefully restored,
though desks are gone, there’s varnished floors; there’s a new blackboard.
It’s a selling point for local wine where you picture children play    
lunchtime games amongst the trees at school in Faraday.

Six children and their teacher - the final class at Faraday,
now live in our folklore that will never fade away.
Survivors of a mass abduction in October seventy two;
held for a million dollar ransom in a hell that they went through.
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