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THE
LIGHTHOUSE KEEPERS
abandoned
lyrics by G. Appel
Everybodies
walking, walking, walking;
Everybodies
walking, walking, walking
everybodies
walking, walking, walking
walking
back to the lighthouse baby
Everybodies
striding .................
People
are coming from miles around
just
to see what can be found
there's
Blue and Hairy, Babalouie too
just
to see what there is to do
when
we get there we'll pull up our chairs
put
up our feet, have something to eat
turn
on the telly, put some beer in our bellies
then
we'll lie down and fall asleep.
there's
a dog called chaos, a master too
two
small cats, called Mouse* and Ruth
there's
a boy called Greg, and there's more
a
girl called Juliet who shuts the door
Everybodies
walking walking walking
Everybodies
shuffling striding
leaping
waltzing
Walking
back to the lighthouse, baby
*sadly
departed and replaced by Byron
a
new verse might run 'there's a boy called Steven
he
plays his drums, etc.
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Tales
of the Unexpected
12"
LP
Hot Records
HOT
1011
Released
November 1984
Wheels
Over The Desert
Lip
Snipe Groin
No
Reason
A
Time Of Evil
Jazz
Song
Power
Ring
We've
Got A Gig
Ocean
Liner
Love
Beacon
Big
Noise
Lighthouse
Keepers
Wilder
Beast
Evil
Touch
Torture
Road
Recorded
at Paradise Studios (A) August 1984
Engineered
by David Price
Assistant
Engineer Tom Colley
Produced
by The Lighthouse Keepers and John Basett
Mixed
by David Price, The Lighthouse Keepers and John Basett
Recording
Co-ordinated by Key f Productions for Certain Music and Hot
Records
JULIET
WARD - VOCALS, TAMBOURINE
GREG
APPEL - 12-STRING GUITAR, DISTORTED ELECTRIC GUITAR, BASS
VOCAL,
A TYPE OF PIANO, BELTING NOISE
MICHAEL
(BLUE) DALTON - HARMONICA, SLIDE GUITAR, BASS
STEPHEN
O'NEIL - ELECTRIC GUITAR, BASS SAXOPHONE
STEVEN
WILLIAMS - DRUMS, PERCUSSION
ADDITIONAL
MUSICIANS
JOHN
PAPANIS - MANDOLINE, BANJO
ALEX
HAMILTON - TRUMPET
GLAD
BAD - TROMBONE
BEAT
BOY - BARITONE SAX
BARNABY
WARD & LEE VERGONA - SPECIAL FX AND ADDITIONAL VOCALS
All
songs by G. Appel Copyright 1984 Hot Music except Big Noise
(Haggart/Badug/Rodin/Crosby)
and Jazz Song - S. O'Neil Copyright 1984 Hot Music.
The
title of 'Lip Snipe Groin' stolen by consent from Gus.
Cover
Art by S. O'Neil.
Many
thanks must be expressed to anyone who has given us assistance
in the
past and future:
Hot
Records, Keith, John, David, Tom, Lee, Darian, Someone Ford
(and all
photographers whose names are not known at this point in time),
Richard, Robert, Peter, Allen, David Nichols, Karen Bayley,
other Perth inhabitants, Craig in Melbourne, the cultivator
in Melbourne, the people of Ceduna, some of Norseman, 2SER,
2JJJ, 2MBS, 2MMM, 2SM, 2WS, 2CH, 3EON-FM, 3RRR, 3CR, 3PBS,
5MMM, 4ZZZ, 2XX, 2CC, 6UVS, the other sympathetic radios of
Perth (the letters don't spring to mind), the ABC and all
other radio stations in Australia. of course, 'Timbo' (Tim
Palmer), Simon Pickworth, and the kindly journalists, On The
Street, Ram, Juke, that young lass at the Canberra Times who
gave us such excellent advice, and everyone else in Canberra,
Adelaide, Wollongong, Newcastle, Sydney, Melbourne, Perth,
Brisbane, all our friends and relatives, The Triffids, The
Particles, all other bands in Australia, all venues and promoters,
and all the inhabitants of the earth.
Keep
your eye out for The Lighthouse Keepers Annual, a video compilation
and anything else of interest.
WRITE
TO: PO BOX 996
DARLINGHURST
NSW 2010
AUSTRALIA
Expect
a reply within the year. Sorry to anyone who has written and
had their mail eaten by Trigger, we try to communicate but
fail at times.
And
remember: Support cottage industry.
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AN
UNEXPECTED TALE
Over
the valleys over the plains
over
the oceans the wicked ones came
they
wanted but evil
they
wanted but nought
they
wanted the treasure
but
not to be bought
On
high sat the wild fowl
preening
itself
surveying
surroundings
of
violence and grief
the
world was not silent
the
area was large
but
divided into bits
that
were smaller or larger (than each other)
We
sat a while to have a chat
the
air was cold
we
sat and spoke
you
cracked a smile
as
the funeral march went by
Yet
to this day I cannot say
Why?
The
molluscs squirmed in the pond below
And
a writhing worm quivered down low
The
sky was dark
Even
in the park
But
the game of cricket went on still
And
the players chuckled despite the chill
An
air of doom pervaded all
The
wind was a bitter freezing squall
The
streets were dark the house was cold
The
sugar factory kept going all night
Spit
yuck erky perky
the
cleaning of the soul
I
can't hold the vomit back
I'm
laughing at the bowl
Hiorojkaniaca
blah fonca staph
Bruella
von kell
Dellesticjovic
strophilla
jue
ella closhvaphetia bah vah, bah vah,
Queina
Kertoilla ebetia Colli
Ick
dock Ick dock merrily we
Forsooth
ye tarriers bellowing free
once,
twice, thrice say I
If
ye be not brothers away and avaunti
We're
truckling proudly on this jaunt
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PART
II
Happy
Birthday to me
They
shouted with glee
And
they jumped and chortled with joy
From
every throat was heard the cry Hoy Hoy
The
insects wheeled about the room
Their
pleasure was plain to see
They
jigged and skipped into their doom
For
their merry existence was not meant to be
Ha
Ha Ha Hee Hee Hee
We
and me we had such fun
I
had to leave to do a pee
but
later sat and dwelled on all
the
darkness and things on the toilet wall,
Things
were scribbled
Words
were painted
who
was bad
And
who whom dated
people
I knew, people I didn't
lies
or truths, they were or maybe not
We
crossed the desert single file
we
crossed the desert mile by mile
though
I had aged but 53
little
dit it matter to me
the
candles, I could still handle
with
all my breath,
With
all my length and breadth
I
never failed to satisfy
those
small sections of fire
upon
my birthday cake
(although
I am thin as a rake)
Gobbling
Gobbling girding wide
For
I am the fellow whose girth is wide
I
leap upon the standing stone
And
up a loft proclaim my pride
Over
again and into the midst
Many
have tried but all have missed
I
am the-Prince of all I survey
Pick
up a rock and throw it away
Skate
in a rink upon a blade
This
is the way I have a kingdom made
Tineey
wineey sitting in a small hall
I'm
short, but not the shortest of them all
people
think that I ought to be ashamed
but
I always say I'm not all to blame
As
pappa repeatedly belted me upon the scone
and
so my growth was sort of minimal to none
but
I'm happy
despite
pappy.
I'm
smaller forsooth
Against
all terms of truth,
"All
is fake, everything is possible".
be
talya ejangevelda s'hoenicale
blight
I yea curse upon
this
sinful house
back
over the valleys, back over the plains
the
wicked ones returned though some remained.
living
on little sections of land
farming
this earth, with nought but their hands.
by
many
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