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MOCK OF THE BAY
“There have been too few songs about women whose hearts have been broken by treacherous and irresponsible dredging,” emails Clive James:
Can I point out that the assertion “I did it my way” is begging to be transformed into “They’re dredging my bay”? The way is open for someone to write a Traceeee lyric. I make a present of a punch-line to the potential winner of, and all the other contestants in, a competition to write the rest of it. Alas, my own skills failed after I got my first line: ”I gave my trust”.
You heard the man; get lyricizing!
UPDATE. The winner, from a quality field: Janice.
UPDATE II. Beware the foamy scum!
You know about the Archive of Misheard Lyrics? There’s some really funny stuff over there.
Posted by rightwingprof on 2008 02 08 at 10:57 AM • permalinkPete’s dredging Trace’s bay?
She should be so lucky, lucky ...4. All right, all right, here I go. I know that there should be eight verses and I’ve only done four, but it’s 12.30am and the spring of
scotchinspiration has run dry.And now, the dredge is near
And I am facing channel deepening
All you righties can do
Is laugh at me, and go on sleepeningI’ve wanted, a man that’s bald
A seven foot musical guy, say
Now he’s a minister
And he’s dredging my bayRegrets, I’ve had a few
And other words, with lots of ‘e’s in
I thought he was telling the truth
And then found out, he’s only teasingBut now, the dolphins cry,
The kelp is dead, the gannets fly away
It doesn’t matter what I write
They’re dredging my bayOther efforts will be far better, but here’s my contribution:
And now, the end is near;
And so I face the final curtain.
My friend, I’ll say it clear,
I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain.I’ve lived a life of bull.
I’ve never thought ev’ry day;
But I can’t believe they’re doing this,
They’re dredging my bay.Regrets, I’ve had a few;
Like meeting Pete, all my tension,
But I didn’t do what I wanted to do
And never saw it through, lost myself his Government pension.I planned each charted course;
Except for the huge ships coming my way,
But more, much more important than this,
They’re dredging my bay.Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew
When I bit off more than I should chew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I had to go and spit it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall;
But the bastard’s still dredging my bay.I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and cried.
I’ve had my fill; my share of losing.
And now, as tears subside,
I find it’s me he’s abusing.To think I did all that;
And may I say - not in a shy way,
I tried my best to stop him,
From dredging my bayFor what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of one who kneels
And bows to the one named Kevin,
The Greenie bastard’s dredging my bay.Good one, Ash - I just want to propose a small modification to make it more understandable to young Canadians:
I planned each charted course;
Except for the huge ships coming my way,
But more, much more important than this,
They’re dredging my bay.... segue into ...
“Down by the bay
where the watermelons grow
back to my home
I dare not go
for if I do
my mother would say
they’re dredging my bay”
Sorry, Otis:
Sittin’ on a dredge in the bay
watchin’ the goop go away,
Now we got somethin’ to live for
‘cause Traceeee’s havin’ a fit,
but just wait ‘til the corpses
start floatin’ her way.They’re sittin’ on the dock of the bay
Watching the fish die away
Ooo, they’re just sittin’ on the dock of the bay
Wastin’ timeShe left her condo in Sydney
Headed for the stinkin’ bay
‘Cause she had nothing to live for
but she still thinks she’ll get her waySo I’m just gonna sit on a dredge in the bay
Watching the slime float away
Ooo, she’s sittin’ on the dock of the bay
Wastin’ timeLook like nothing’s gonna change
Traceeeee still remains the same
she can’t do what logic says to do
So I guess she’ll remain the same, yesNow, I’m just gonna sit on a dredge in the bay
Watching the goop float away
and she’s still sittin’ on the dock of the bay
Wastin’ time(whistle)
Posted by Gary from Jersey on 2008 02 08 at 12:03 PM • permalinkSittin’ on the dock of my baaaaay
Sittin’ in the Melbourne sun
I’m just sittin here on my bum
Whining ‘bout everything
Wastin’ everyone’s time - yeahI’m sittin’ on the dock of my baaaaay
Wasting my Saturday
I’m just sittin’ here reading The Age
Wastin’ everyone’s timeI got up early this morning
Headed down Port Phillip Bay
Cos I’ve got nothing to live for
So I’ll just keep whining awaySo, I’m just gon’ sit on the dock of my baaaay
Watchin’ the sludge get carted away, ooh
I’m sittin’ on the dock of my baaaaay
Wastin’ everyone’s timeLooks like, everything will change
Peter Garrett’s the one I blame
And after I voted Labor too
Think of all the worms they’ll maimSittin’ on Port Phillip Bay
Being a sad little waste of space
Ooh, looking at a filthy Bay
Wasting everyone’s timePosted by Vincent Gerome on 2008 02 08 at 12:04 PM • permalinkThanks JLC.
Here’s another effort:
And now the end is near;
Oh Lord, I’m really hurtin’,
My friends, I’ll be quite clear,
He’s a lying bastard, I’m so certain.I’ve written a lot of bull,
I’ve published it on the super highway,
But more and more I need to convince,
Him not to dredge my bay.Friends, I have only few,
Definitely far too few to mention,
I did what I had to do,
No wonder I created so much tension.I planned each fight of course,
Each careful step, hoarding my pay,
So I could get close to him,
And beg him not to drench my bay.Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew,
When I took in more than I could chew,
But through it all, when I had doubt,
I sucked it up, and spat it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall,
But still, he’s dredging my bay.I loved, I laughed, and I cried,
I’ve had my fill; my share of losing.
And now I’ve found the bastard lied,
To the right-wing, it’s so amusing.To think I did all that,
And his minders made me stay away,
To which I thought “No, not me”,
Because he said he isn’t going to dredge my bay.For who is this man, what has he got?
It’s certainly not me, I’m way too hot.
He doesn’t say what he truly feels;
He claims the contracts, won’t be repealed;
The DVD shows, he got the blows,
But he’s still going to dredge, my bay!
I should make it clear that I consider Port Philip Bay to be a wonderful, wonderful place.
I was born and raised in Sandringham, 2 minutes walk from the beach. I remember when I was a kid, my mum would send me and my sister down to the wharf at around 5:30 am to buy fish from the boats as they came in.
I remember going out for flounder at dusk with my dad, a flashlight and a spear.
I remember my dad coming home in the early morning with a bag of garfish and an unsteady walk.
I remember collecting 100s of mussels from the rocks at picnic point.
It is a fabulous resource, under-appreciated by Melburnians.
The Heads have, however, been dredged before and will survive another go at it.
I know this is the Whiskey talking, but my vote goes to Splice so far.
Kudos to the other people with enough skill to try. Because I’m not game.
Posted by The_Wizard_of_WOZ on 2008 02 08 at 12:52 PM • permalinkWell, okay, but let’s make it fair. Don’t let lyle enter this contest.
Posted by wronwright on 2008 02 08 at 12:56 PM • permalink(with apologies to CCR)
Have You Ever Seen My Bay?
Who’d have thought with so much toil
I’d be betrayed by Midnight Oil?
I know! It’s been comin’ for some time.
But now I hear bald Peter say
He’s cool to dredge in Philip Bay
Minkes! Swimming in brown water…I want to know
Have you ever seen my bay?
Gone for a wade?
Before they took my mud away;
Guess I’ll move to AdelaideYesterday my great resort,
Now I read the Dredge Report
I know! Kvetchin’s always been my style.
We may get a deeper Sea
But there’s not a deeper meeeeeeee
I know, there’s no hope down underI want to know
Have you ever seen my bay?
Gone for a wade?
Before they took my mud away;
Guess I’ll move to AdelaideYeah!!!
I want to know
Have you ever seen my bay?
Gone for a wade?
Before they took my mud away;
Guess I’ll move to AdelaidePosted by Mr. Bingley on 2008 02 08 at 01:00 PM • permalink#14, Mr Bingley, I stand corrected, after consulting my copy of “Have you ever seen the rain”, thats just the
shitshizzle.Top stuff, you deserve an award, or a beer, which ever you prefer.
Posted by The_Wizard_of_WOZ on 2008 02 08 at 01:08 PM • permalinkMy first attempt was a little, er, raw. Maybe I should try again…
Got a swamp dredgin’ woman
Got a sand dredgin’ woman
I’ve got a Bay dredgin’ woman
Got me so blind I can’t see
That she’s a spear throwing woman
She’s trying to make a death beast out of meDon’t put your ban on me baby
Don’t put your ban on me baby
Yes don’t ban my mad bloggin’ comments
Stop messing round with your tricks
Don’t put your ban on me baby
You just might spill the italicsGot your spell on me baby
I’d go to hell for you baby
Yes it’s a conspiracy baby
Turning my heart into stone
I need you so bad, obsidian woman
I can’t leave you aloneThe closest I’ve been to Adelaide is the menu at the Outback Steakhouse.
But it fit my rhyme scheme :)
Posted by Mr. Bingley on 2008 02 08 at 01:13 PM • permalinkThey said if Bush were re-elected poets would be imprisoned!
Posted by Mr. Bingley on 2008 02 08 at 01:35 PM • permalink#20: This ought to be good enough for an outraged Traceeeee article about how we’re redneck hoodlums making fun of her.
Way-ul, we’uns may be rednecks, and we’uns may be hoodlums and we’uns may be makin’ fun ‘a her, but it ain’t like she ain’t bin askin’ fer it with whipped cream an’ a cherry on top.
Totally OT and without links, but that’s my right. I have rights, you know.
I have been astonished (and disappointed) to recently learn that the British Royal Family are, in fact, a bunch of shape-shifting space lizards.
On the other hand, I have been delighted to learn that the gift of “free speech” was bestowed on the free world as recently as the 1970s by our own beloved former Canadian PM, Pee-air Idiot Turdeau.
As someone once said “you can look it up”.
#23: But, m’lud, it wasn’t a capital offense! Look upon my client, m’lud, look upon his obvious . . . (Psst! Bingley! Put that racing form down!) . . . Look upon his obvious remorse, his youth, his inexperience in navigating the treacherous paths and byways of tin-pan alley. No, m’lud, not Adelaide. Werribee, perhaps.
#28 (whistling idly to no one in particular)
Luck beeeeeeeeee a ladeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee tonight…
Posted by Mr. Bingley on 2008 02 08 at 01:49 PM • permalinkSo somewhere between my house and Gary in Jersey’s…
Posted by Mr. Bingley on 2008 02 08 at 02:04 PM • permalink#‘s 18, 22, 23 & 30, Reminds me of that joke about the Australian capital cities:
You should live in Darwin, but leave before you become an alcoholic.You should live in Melbourne, but leave before you support Collingwood.
You should live in Hobart, but leave before your cousins appear attractive.
You should live in Sydney, but leave before you like Rugby League.
You should live in Brisbane, but leave before you like the taste of Bundy.
You should live in Perth, but leave before you think the rest of the country is a dump.
Don’t go to Adelaide. Its a hole.
#20, Bec, I thought I was the only rednecked hoodlum here…Posted by The_Wizard_of_WOZ on 2008 02 08 at 02:07 PM • permalinkAnd now, the dredge is here;
Those deepening things, qua Thomas Merton.
My dear sub-ed, I’ll write it cleeeer;
No more, as you say, my “noisy blurtin’.”The sand in each shallow part;
My kindred brain cries out in dismay.
They bore, they vac the silt,
They’re dredging my bay.Regrets, I’ve had a few;
Those bloody e’s are worth a mention.
I did what I had to do;
Lived sans e y, copped Blair’s eeeextentions.Pete lives a life that’s bull.
What greenie lingers on an essay?
His corp, they’ll hoover all;
They’re dredging my bay.Yes, there are fish, more than a few;
They’ll be sucked up, sprayed off like spew.
Birds who are stressed, when they’re about;
They’ll eat it up and spit it out.
But thugs still bawl that phallic call
“We’re dredging her bay.”I’ve shoved bay’s draught aside;
I’ve had my quill with bunkum oozing.
And now, as peers deride;
I find it all so confusing.To sink a boat in that;
But how, I say - ‘cept in a Bligh way.
No, it’s far too deep;
They’re dredging my bay.For what is a Hutch, what has she got?
If not her shoal, then she has squat.
My bay sings what I truly feel;
Flood my ankles, not some evil keel.
But readers found I look beclowned;
And they’re dredging my bay!With apologies to A.A. Milne, who’s probably more appropriate for Ms Hutchison’s mental development.
Environmentalist, youthful Age columnist,
Strangely coiffured Traceeee
Took great care of Port Philip Bay
though she was only three
Tracee the journo
Said to big Peter
“Peter”, she said, said she
“You must stay away from Port Philip Bay
Without permission from me”Tracee’s adorable environment minister
Started an enquiry
The planning commissioners
looked at the figures and
studied geography.
John the state premier
went to the cabinet
“Peter” he said, “I’m blue
The channel’s too small, it won’t do at all
Please, no greenie crap from you”David Hicks groupie, leftie patootie
(Commonly known as Dim)
Told the Age tea-room ladies
“I’d never have thought it of him”
Furious Traceeee
Wrote a long column
“Peter” she said “don’t agree.
the dolphins and kelp, the gannets and whelks
are all depending on me.”Peter the minister
musically humming
Thought for a minute or three
“Compared to a cabinet posting
Who gives a shit for Traceeee?
If I anger big Kevin
it’s out of the party with me
back to writing bad songs, maybe winning some gongs
And playing to students on ‘E’.”Traceeee the ‘e’-enhanced
Angry and waterlogged
hasn’t been heard of since
Peter said he was sorry
“Her fate” he said “makes me wince”
Was she arrested? Imprisoned? Deported?
Drowned in the depths of the sea?
In front of a dredger, as dead as Heath Ledger
She’s now sedimentareeee.There you go insulting armpits, missred. And by the way, there’s a reason Jersey has that thing dangling at the bottom. See where it’s aimed? Delaware. Those people should be glad we don’t all drink a six pack at the same time.
Posted by Gary from Jersey on 2008 02 08 at 03:06 PM • permalinkIs this Tracee that Tracee?
Hmm. “Hutchison uses the seven ‘chakras’ of Hindu belief to examine moments of her personal and professional history in which misplaced idealism, failed expectations and disappointed romanticism created a life-time of emotional baggage.”
Scene at airport
Ticket agent: Good morning, ma’am. What is your destination?
Tracee Hutcinson: If you only knew how many times I had asked myself the same question.
Agent: What’s the matter – lose your ticket?
TH: No, skip it. I’m checking these bags through.
Agent: Hmm. There’s a fifty-pound, two-bag limit, ma’am. You’ve got three bags, and (lifting them onto scale) – Ugh! – this lot is way over fifty pounds. What have you got in there?
TH: The usual thing. Misplaced idealism, failed expectations, disappointed romanticism. Oh, and vegemite.
Agent: Mostly vegemite, I assume, ma’am, judging by the weight. Selling it door-to-door, are you?
TH: No! There’s only a jar or two. It’s mostly . . . emotional baggage.
Agent: Hmm. You mean, old peace buttons, rejected novels, letters to boyfriends marked “Return to sender” – that sort of thing?
TH: Not at all (glances quickly at a particularly bulging suitcase to make sure there are no tell-tale signs of pink envelopes sticking out). No, that’s not what I mean. Listen, have you ever heard of the seven Chakras of Hinduism?
Agent: No, ma’am, can’t say as I have.
TH: Well, Chakras are points where metaphysical and biophysical energy intersect.
Agent: It’s not in bottles or aerosol spray cans is it, ma’am? We can’t allow that stuff on the airplane.
TH (growing increasingly frustrated): It’s not “stuff”, you . .. Listen. The first Chakra is called Muladhara and refers to the lower body; the second Chakra is called Swadhisthana, and refers to the reproductive organs . . .
Agent (turning pale): Excuse me, ma’am, let me just make a quick telephone call. (Goes to a red telephone mounted on the wall behind him; speaks quietly into it, while keeping an eye on the passenger; returns a few moments later, casting nervous glances to one side and the other; suddenly, his face takes on a look of triumph, as two burly security guards approach).
TH: Hey! What are you blokes doing? Let go of me!
Guard: This the bird, Arnie?
Agent: She’s the one, alright. Better hustle her and her bags over to the interrogation room, pronto.
TH: What’s the meaning of this?!?
Agent: Lady, it’s bad enough you want to go and knock somebody off. But to cut ‘em up and put ‘em in suitcases – that’s just completely beyond me. Boys, I think she’s got the remains of a whole family in those bags – the Chakra’s, I think she called ‘em. A whole family from India. Take her away.
Ash - I propose Grong Grong Matong (or possibly Upper Rubber Boot, Saskatchewan) as a compromise.
Werribee is clearly only for serial offenders and (as yet) we have no evidence that Mr Bingley fits that bill.
Some great lyrics so far and I look forward to those to come.
Unfortunately, I’m currently in pommieland where creativity is discouraged.
Paco - don’t talk to me about Vegemite. They took my fucking vegemite away from me at the airport in Brisbane 2 weeks ago.
I go there to try to build a dam for Kae and what do they do?
They take my fucking Vegemite away, that’s what they do!!
They said it was paste or something. Fucking hell - Bangladeshis manning the security area in Brissy!! What’s the country coming to?
#50: Bingley! You didn’t go against Andrea’s express orders and fix the italics, did you? Whew! Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, brother!
On a serious note: another byproduct of lax immigration controls that I hadn’t really thought about.
#42, P.A.C.O., <Applause>
#46, JLC, OH SH1T! Sorry Tim, I meant Carlton…
Posted by The_Wizard_of_WOZ on 2008 02 08 at 04:23 PM • permalink52 Mr. Bingley
Leprosy makes my skin crawl.
NO ARMS CAN EVER HOLD YOU
Georgie ShawNo
arm(ooopppsss)can ever hold you
Like these (awww shit)armsof mine
No heart can ever love you
Like this heart of mine
My dreams can all come true
If you’ll care for me
This love that I feel for you
Was just meant to be
Nolip(Christ) can ever kiss you
Like theselips(gums) of mine
No one can ever offer
What I offer you
My heart, (here, just came out) my love are yours…..‘Till the end of time
Noarms(What arms) can ever hold you
Like thesearms(how bout a leg…DAMN!) of mine#51, Paco, that is truly scary. When I was a child, my grandmother had a Bible with an addendum full of explanations and drawings, and one of them was leprosy. Scared the bejeebus out of me, and I’ve never gotten over it, especially since my family spent some time in Luling, TX, where there were some people who had been released from Carville, (they were no longer infectious) which at that time was still an active Hansen’s Disease hospital. I remember them, though, and they were pretty scary to look at.
I know leprosy is hard to get. But it still scares the bejeebus out of me.
Leprosy is the lesser problem; the county has 100 TB cases.
Cheers
Posted by J.M. Heinrichs on 2008 02 08 at 05:19 PM • permalinkWith apologies to Midnight Oil:
Peter Garret give the nod
It’s a setback for your country
Great big dredgers all in rows
Shipping companies still ask for moreDivided world the Sunday Age
Traceeee controls the issue
You leave us with all day to talk
You can write your own assessmentSing me songs of no whales dying
Seems to me not enough Japs frying
Waiting for the next big pulp millWill you know it when you see it
High risk children wedgies in kayaks
Now market crashes call the shots
Business deals in parking lots
Waiting for the whale meat of tomorrowEveryone drives a Prius no emission
No one ever goes to prison
kevin Rudd unable to make decisions
Political party line don’t cross that floor
Hospital system can’t save your life
Superboy Rudd takes a really fat wife
In the shadows of Sea Shepherd we liveSing me songs of no denying
Seems to me too many trying
Waiting for the next big dredgerPosted by mr creosote on 2008 02 08 at 05:27 PM • permalinkOk, my attempt at lyrics.
A recording studio in Sydney. In the booth, a sound engineer and an auditioner. Before the microphone stands Tracee Hutchinson, nervously clutching sheet music and lyrics.
Auditioner: Ok, Ms. Hutchinson, we’re ready. What’s the name of your song?
TH: (opens mouth but only a squeak emerges) *Cough* Er, sorry. It’s a little ballad called “They’re Diddling My Bay.”
Auditioner: Uh huh. Alrighty, then, on the count of three. And a-one, and a-two and a-three…
TH: Although my end is dear,
I’ve waggled it ‘til it’s hurtin’,
When Midnight Oil I hear,
I wish’d Peter would come…er…a-courtin’,Auditioner: Cut! Ok, Ms. Hutchinson, we’ll call you if we need you. Next!
I removed the stray italics tag in comment #46. Watch those typing fingers, people. Don’t make me get out my BOOMSTICK.
Posted by Andrea Harris, Administrator on 2008 02 08 at 05:57 PM • permalinkmr creosote.
Don’t apologise - it was the song we had to have. Thanks.
Garrett in the meantime has another problem looming. He has an international incident on his hands after he once again disengaged his brain and put his mouth in overdrive. Garrett’s stupidity follows Rudd rejecting a security pact with Japan and India because it might upset China. And what of India? Right in the middle of the cricket controversy, Rudd tells the Indians they aren’t good enough to get Australian uranium.
So two former allies now see Australia as antagonistic as Rudd takes his foreign policy direction from Beijing. The slide in Australia’s internationl standing post-Howard has been quicker than even I imagined.
Oh beeyutiful, oh spaaycious Baay,
Its floating waves of kelp.
Keep it dredge-free,
For sake of meeeeee,
I know it needs my help!Oh, spaaycious Baay, oh spaaycious Baay,
Pete shed his grace on theeee!
And crown thy flood
With slimey mud
From meeeee to shining seeeeea!Sorry, couldn’t reach the high notes…
Posted by Harry Bergeron on 2008 02 08 at 06:42 PM • permalinkKae - I was just trying to keep my loved ones alive. We live in an alien land. How can we survive without our Vegemite.
We used to be able to buy it in Montreal but now we have Vegenazis stopping us from taking even subsistence amounts out of the country.
Anyway, I’ll be back soon and I’ll thwart those evildoers.
Mark my words:
Dredge, baby, dredge, baby
Give me a hand
From July to the end of September
Dredge, baby, dredge, baby
There in the sand
Give me a time to rememberNot so many apologies to Midnight Oil this time:
Beds are burning
Out where Traceeee’s heart broke
The shrilly shiela and the baldy bloke
Syntax wrecks and boiling seagulls
Screaming type faces and lots of eeeeeeee’sThe time has come
To say hairs hair
To earn the rent
To invest in shares
The time has come
A facts a fact
It belongs to us
Lets dredge up BracksHow can we dance when our Kevin is yearning
How do we sleep when Redfern is burningPosted by mr creosote on 2008 02 08 at 07:12 PM • permalink#62 RebeccaH, no need to apologise. My problem with leprosy is the jokes my mum used to tell me.
Her favourite?
How do you get instant skeleton?
Put a leper in a wind tunnel.Closely followed by:
How do you make sausage?
Put a sock over the wind tunnel.Impressive stuff to a twelve year old.
Posted by Nilknarf Arbed on 2008 02 08 at 08:12 PM • permalinkAt As usual
More ideas.
Below seems to lose much in the translation. Or is that transliteration?My dredge caress your bed Almost despite myself As usual I get up the mud.
But as usual Even at night Let me play
A pretend As usualPosted by stackja1945 on 2008 02 08 at 08:47 PM • permalinkOh, Traceee you can whine,
You can whine like all the time,
Oh, Traceee!
Oh, Traceee!Oh, Traceee you can whine,
You can whine like all the time,
Oh, Traceee!
Oh, Traceee!You say the bay they’ll kill
But John Howard they won’t!
The dredging scares the krill,
The wildlife is boned!
The pristine seacoast view
Is sullied with foul mud!
And now you say you’re through
With that lying sack K-Rudd—
Oh, Traceee…Oh, Traceee, I just want to take my little hand,
Behind your shrieking head, and pound it in the sand!
Oh, Traceee, yes, we really need to save the beach,
because it takes a dune to stop your constant screech!
‘cause we are through, Tracee, through, Tracee, really, with you,Tracee…!(with apologies to Toni Basil…)
Posted by richard mcenroe on 2008 02 08 at 09:16 PM • permalinkGentlemen, I knew Sanjaya, and let me say, you are no Sanjaya…!
—Dan Quayle
Posted by richard mcenroe on 2008 02 08 at 09:19 PM • permalinkBayyyyy-Oh! Ba-aa-ayyyy-Oh!
Dredgeboat come, and me wanna go numbPosted by AlburyShifton on 2008 02 08 at 09:21 PM • permalinkTraceeeee Hutcho went to town,
Riding on a pre-mise,
Got betrayed by a former beau,
And now he’s called a men-ace.Posted by AlburyShifton on 2008 02 08 at 09:32 PM • permalinkAs Procol Harum may have sung:
We skipped the light fandredgo
turned cartwheels ‘cross the sea floor
We were feeling kinda seasick
but the dredge called out for more
The dredge motor was humming harder
as the mud all flew away
When we called out for another dredge
the support crew brought another dray.
And so it was that later
as the filler told his tale
that T’s face, at first just ghostly,
turned a whiter shade of pale.Posted by stackja1945 on 2008 02 08 at 09:37 PM • permalinkDredge whistle blowin’, makes a scary noise
Underneath her blankets cowers Traceeeee with her toys
Dredgin’, Sinkin’, Suckin’, out along the bay
All bound for Melbournetown, many miles a-wayPosted by AlburyShifton on 2008 02 08 at 09:38 PM • permalinkWhat amazingly talented people we have here. This is a top thread. Keep it up.
Posted by walterplinge on 2008 02 08 at 10:05 PM • permalinkSilted Up (Painted Black- apologies to Mick, Keef et al)
I see a big port and I want it silted up
No imports anymore I want it silted up
I see the ships lined up, filled up with Chinese stuff
It would be great if they can’t get through Phillip’s BluffsI believe a dozen greens can turn the freighters back
With Garrett’s help, hey we’re all eco-chondriacs
It can’t be bad for the state to try to stop all trade
Like a new born baby, wealth just happens anywayI look inside myself and see my heart’s deep green
I see my Rudd lord and must have him intervene
Maybe then commerce will end and I’ll have my bay pristine
It’s not easy bein’ a forty-something teenNo more will trade by sea go- turn the dredgers back
Why won’t you listen to me?, I’m an Age-ing hackIf I whinge hard enough about the dredgin’ plan
We can be poor and pure just like AfghanistanI see a big port and I want it silted up
No exports anymore I want it silted up
I see the ships lined up, filled up with Aussie things
It would be great if I can stop them from leaving…Hmm, hmm, hmm,...
Posted by eeniemeenie on 2008 02 08 at 10:13 PM • permalinkI was working on this -
Poet Laureate watch outI am Kevin from Queensland- yes I am ,Yes I am
A clever little fellow, Yes I am Yes I am
I smile on ‘Kew’ and wave my hand and I think I am special-0h I am, IamI have a brilliant brain and can speak Mandarin- yes I can yes I can
I am a hero in my mind and you know I am
I fooled you all with my smiles and my guile and going to make some suffer in while, in whileAll those Howard loving people who have scoffed at me-
I am going to show you whose the boss, soon you will see.
I will tax you and tax you until you squeal- oh Kevin please stop as you come to heel.I am a po face liar and can look you in the eyes
though I lick my lips and per per spire
I signed to Kyoto and warming too
and all who disagree- well poo poo poooJulia and Wayne and my Union mates
we all know how to truly hate
we have a plan , oh yes lots of plans
for lots of committees to expand those plans.We will fill the brains of your kids with hate
with our education revolution and seal your fate
They will learn to hate with fervour unknown
through the seeds of anarchy we have sown.A computer in their laps will daily fill
their soft maleable brains with socialist drill
We soon will rule with steel & our Chinois mates
and you will never get from under the weightI an Kevin from Queensland -and you know what
Let me tell you this, let me tell you what
I’m a clever man with a a degree or or two
and a a PhD in Bull dust doo.Kudos to Mr James for inspiring such a comedic outpouring of lyrics.
Posted by The_Wizard_of_WOZ on 2008 02 08 at 10:34 PM • permalinkOne for our PM… and the 1000 person summit….
I am Kevvie, hear me roar
I had numbers too big to ignore
And I don’t know enough to go back an’ pretend
‘cause I’ve made it up before
And I’ve been down there blabbing on the floor
No one’s ever gonna put me down againCHORUS
Oh yes I am wise
But it’s wisdom born of pain
Yes, I’ve paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to, I can do anything
I am strong (strong)
I am invincible (invincible)
I am KevvieeeeeeeeeeeeeeYou can bend but never break me
‘cause it only serves to make me
More determined to achieve my final goal
And I come back even stronger
Not a novice any longer
‘cause you’ve deepened the conviction in my soulCHORUS
I am Kevvie watch me grow
See me standing toe to toe
As I spread my lovin’ arms across the land
But I’m still an embryo
With a long long way to go
Until I make my white bro’ understandOh yes I am wise
But it’s wisdom born of pain
Yes, I’ve paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to I can face anything
I am strong (strong)
I am invincible (invincible)
I am woman
Oh, I am Kevvieeeeeeeeeeeeeee
I am invincible
I am strongFADE
I am Kevvie
I am invincible
I am strong
I am KevvieeeeeeeeeeApologies to Lenny Kravitz ...
Are you gonna dredge my bay?
(Please baby) and I got to (please) got to know (I got to know) yeahCome on, join the frey
Get the flock down to the bay
Join Bob Brown: gay-nay-say
Show ‘em the way!They paved paradise then they dredged the Bay.
Dredging all night and then dredging all day.
Don’t it always seem to go
That you get shafted when Labor comes to town, they paved paradise then they dredged the Bay.Hey Mr Baldy, why did you do it to us?
I don’t care about trade or the economy,
Leave me the birds and the bees - please
Don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you got till it’s gone - They paved paradise and then they dredged the Bay.
Hey now, they’ve paved paradise and then they dredged the Bay.
Why not?Listen, late last night, I heard the screen door swing,
And a big yellow taxi came and took Traceeee awaaaaay.
Now don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you got till it’s gone
They paved paradise and then they dredged the Bay.I don’t dredge it
Why you wanna dredge it
Why you wanna dredge it all away
Cuz you’re dredging it all dredging it all away yeah yeah
Cuz You’re dredging it all away hey, hey, hey
Hey, paved paradise, and then they dredged the Bay
la,la, la, la, la, la, la ,la ,la ,la ,laPosted by AlphaMikeFoxtrot on 2008 02 08 at 11:14 PM • permalink(Tune: Moon River)
Port Phil-lip
Wider than a mile,
We’re dredging you in style
to-dayOur fee earnin,
While we’re churnin’
The sludge that you flush out,
Don’t rush out,
To protest..Cause two kay-aks
Strayed a little close,
Got caught up in the hose,
They say,They’re now just a staiiin,
In our wake,
Oh for heaven’s sake,
How much can Traceee take?Port Phil-lip
Boo-hooooThe weird thing is how little you have to do to the lyrics of Bohemian Rhapsody to make it fit Tracee’s mindset:
Is this the real life-
Is this just fantasy-
Caught in a dredge tide-
No escape from reality-
Open your eyes
Look up to the skies and see-
Im just a poor girl,i need much sympathy-
Because Im easy come,easy go,
A little high,little low,
Anyway the wind blows,doesnt really matter to me,
To meGaia,just killed a man,
Put a gun against his head,
Pulled my trigger,now hes dead,
Gaia, dredging had begun,
And he promised he’d never touch my Bay -
Gaia ooo,Didnt mean to make you cry-
If Im not back again this time tomorrow-
Carry on,carry on,as if nothing really matters-and so on
Picture yourself in a boat
on a harbour
you’re dredging the sludge
and pumping it freeSomebody calls you,
you answer quite slowly
a girl with deranged moonbat eyes..Clustering kayaks of yellow and green
shatter themselves on your proww
Look for the girl with the crazed moonbat eyes
And she’s gone.Tracee in the sky with diamonds…
Lee Pockriss and Paul Vance may think to re-write and Ron Dante may think to re-record:
bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay-bay-bay-bay
Tracee, when the bay is with you
Somethin’ you do bounces the bay off the bayling
Tracee, day after day
When you’re this way, the bay gets a lovin’ feelin’
Come with the bay, don’t say “No”
Hold the bay close, Tracee never let go
Tracee, you’re gonna bay
Happy with the bay, the bay will build a bay around you
Filled with baying everywhere
And when you’re there you’ll be so glad the bay found you
Come with us, don’t say “No”
Hold bay close, Tracee, never, never, ever let bay go
bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay-bay-bay-bay
bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay-bay-bay-bay
Come with the bay, don’t say “No”
Hold the bay close, Tracee, never, never, ever let the bay go
bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay-bay-bay-bay
Never let the bay go
bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay-bay-bay-bay
Tracee, never let me go
[Fade out]
bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay, bay-bay-bay-bay-bay-bay-bayPosted by stackja1945 on 2008 02 09 at 12:54 AM • permalinkBUAWHAHAHAHA!!!!!
Top thread, people! I’d submit some lyrics, but I’m not a poet, and I know it.
;-P
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2008 02 09 at 01:25 AM • permalinkI think I’m gonna be sad,
I think it’s today, yeah.
That guy is driving me mad
by dredging my bay.Bald Pete got my ticket to ride,
He was right there by Kevin’s side
Now I find out that he lied,
And he don’t care.Now he’ll say that listenin’ to me
Is bringing him down yeah.
For he will never be free
When I am around.But Pete got my ticket to ride,
he got MY ticket to ride,
And now I found I’m despised,
And he don’t care.I don’t know why he’s ridin’ so high,
He ought to think twice,
He ought to do right by me.
Before he starts mining Blue Sky
He ought to think twice,
He ought to do right by Traceee.I think I’m gonna’ be sad,
I think it’s today yeah.
The guy is driving me mad
dredging my bay, yeah.Bald Pete got my ticket to ride,
Standing with Kevin right by his side,
He got my ticket to ride,
But he don’t care.I don’t know why he’s ridin’ so high,
He ought to have thought twice,
He ought to have done right by me.
And now I’m saying goodbye,
I see the game he plays,
But no one betrays… Tracee.Now he says that living with me,
Is bringing him down, yeah.
For he will never be free
With Tracee around.But the b*st*rd got my ticket to ride,
He got my ticket to ride,
Can you believe he got Trace’s ticket to ride,
And still he don’t care.That B*st*rd don’t care, That b*st*rd don’t care.
He used to be my baby but now that b*st*rd don’t care.(whining fade out)
To the tune of cheap wine.
Once smoked a massive doobie, then denied it
Drove a hybrid car
Baby that was years ago
I left it all behind
Had a friend, I heard he died
On a ministry he was compromised
Baby that was years ago
I left it all behind for myCheap imports and economic growth
Cheap imports and economic growth
Come-on, come-on, come-onI don’t mind giving charity
To those that despise me
I don’t really need your votes
Baby you can shout at me
But you arent part of my caucus
I don’t really need your vote, I got myCheap imports and economic growth
Cheap imports and economic growth
Come-on, come-on, come-onSitting on the bench ignorin’ Global Warming
Oh Yeah!
Spent the whole night
votin’ all the development
Oh Yeah!
Mentings every minute of the day a bore
Watching the polls, watching the plebs
Watching the dredge, and thinkin’ there could never be more
Never be more
Anytime you want to find me
I ain’t got a telephone
I’m another world away
But I always feel at home, with myCheap imports and a economic growth . . .
For you cuturaly deprived furriners heres the original.
Cheap wine.
I actually had a mate when i was a toungun who swore the lyrics were “sheep flying and a 3 legged goat”Posted by thefrollickingmole on 2008 02 09 at 01:41 AM • permalink(sung to “San Francisco Bay Blues”)
Dredgin’ up the bottom
Down by the Port Philip Bay
Poor old Traceeeee just had to go away
Didn’t care if she was so sad,
Most fun I ever had,
She said goodbye, I didn’t cry
I laughed so hard I could dieShe ain’t worth a nickel
And she ain’t worth a lousy dime.
She don’t come back,
You know I just wouldn’t mind.
But if she ever gets back to stay,
You know it wouldn’t change my way,
Dredgin’ up the bottom
Down by the Port Philip Bay(With genuine apologies to Sting, the Police and anyone who likes music):
Traceeee, you don’t have to put up the red fight
The election is over
You don’t have to sell your body to the party
Traceeee, you don’t have to whinge and whine tonight
About the awful dredging
Peter doesn’t care if it’s wrong or if it’s rightTraceeee, you don’t have to put up the red fight
Traceeee, you don’t have to put up the red fight
Put up the red fight, put up the red fight
Put up the red fight, put up the red fight
Put up the red fight, ohPeter loved you before the election,
But he lied about his affection,
He’s just another commo f*ckwit
And you bought his brand of bullshit,
I know his mind is made up
So please shut the f*ck up
Told you once I won’t tell you again you’re a moonbatPosted by AlphaMikeFoxtrot on 2008 02 09 at 02:22 AM • permalinkAs usual, PIMF, bah!
Actually a better line is “you will recognise me in the bar, Ill be the one in the corner licking his own eyebrows”...Posted by thefrollickingmole on 2008 02 09 at 02:59 AM • permalinkI prefer the less judgemental term of “throwback” myself.
Posted by thefrollickingmole on 2008 02 09 at 03:05 AM • permalinkAh. No. I don’t know you;
Not any more, Minister baldy.
I’d planned a private note,
But then you treated me unkindly.A press release you used
To talk to me like I am mere clay.
And now, almost as bad,
You’re dredging my bay.Regrets, I’ve had too few;
Not near enough to change direction.
My brain has two neurones
And they’re not making a connection.I try to have a thought
But words come out just every which way
And now, almost as bad,
You’re dredging my bay.Yes there are times when I am paid
To write a self-indulgent tirade
And through it all, I have my fans
Who are as crazy as I am.
We stand as one, alike undone.
You’re dredging my bay.I moan, I snap and pout
and do my hyperbolic ranting.
But still I have no clout.
I find it all so confounding.To think that I’m Traceeeeeee
And you refused to give me my way.
Now I’m in a snit.
You’re dredging my bay.For what is the point of my byline
If when I have a public whine
And say the things I truly feel
About myself and mine and me
I get ignored like any bore?
You’re dredging my bay!No Sense
Cold Chisel
(Twentieth Century)The Age arrives in the morning
I’m hoping for good news
Another story from a Traceee that I don’t know
Another raving full of no newsYou don’t tell me anything
You just go on and on
And you don’t make no senseYou try to tell me that you’re a Blue Wedgie
But we ain’t never met
You try to say you’re gonna be Baldy’s one and only
But I wouldn’t take no betYou don’t tell me anything
You just go on and on
And you don’t make no sensePosted by mr creosote on 2008 02 09 at 03:23 AM • permalinkWhy not change the name of the group Blue Wedges to Blue Dredgers?
Surely the euphony appeals.
And here’s a final verse for the above competition:
And so I cannot write
I cry my tears
Give up the fight
And I bray -(For it’s not my
thinking day)-
I turn away…‘cos
They’re dredging…myyiyiyiyiy….bayyyyyyy.(If Traceee were a singer she would be one of those overdone ‘70s variety singers).
Posted by carpefraise on 2008 02 09 at 03:54 AM • permalink#12, I don’t think you’re a real bogan.
Real bogans use the name “Wozza” at any opportunity, therefore even though “the Wizard of Woz” makes perfect sense, a real bogan would call himself the Wizard of Wozza just to assert himself, which is a fuill-time occupation, trumping any other consideration.
So there.;)
Posted by carpefraise on 2008 02 09 at 03:58 AM • permalink#42, Paco that’s brilliant!
BTW, should you ever wish to branch out (in yet another ever-fertile direction) you wouldn’t care to let us read a memo or two of the fateful Norse-type saga of your distant connection Paco from Waco, would you?
Posted by carpefraise on 2008 02 09 at 04:04 AM • permalink#128, Carpefraise, <cracks knuckles> Not. A. Real. Bogan.? Thems fighting words, I demand satisfaction. I challenge you to a duel!
Seriously though, I picked up a wifebeater sunburn today working in the garden with a bourbon hang over. Thats about as Bogan as you can get.
‘Wozza’ is a dogs name. At least it is here in West OZ (WOZ geddit?). I love dogs, but not as much as Henry Jones Jr
As for needing to assert myself, I’m so skippy I crap Vegemite. Why would I need to assert myself any further?
And don’t forget: I’m smarter than the average Bogan.
Posted by The_Wizard_of_WOZ on 2008 02 09 at 04:18 AM • permalinkwhat do you call a man with a spade in his head?
Doug (boom boom)
Posted by eeniemeenie on 2008 02 09 at 04:19 AM • permalink135,
What do you call a man without a shovel in his head?
Dougless.Posted by thefrollickingmole on 2008 02 09 at 04:32 AM • permalinkTo Moonlight Bay:
I was dredging along Port Phillip Bay,
I heard Traceeeee’s voice a-ringing, it seemed to say,
“You have stolen my heart, don’t dredge that bay!”
I’m an ALP Minister; there goes that bay!Posted by AlburyShifton on 2008 02 09 at 04:34 AM • permalinkThere’s a guy jogging on the beach and he’s sees an armless and legless woman crying on the sand.
He says “what’s the matter?”
She’s says “I’ve never been hugged”.
So, being a kind and compassionate sort of fellow, he gives her a big hug.
He runs past her on the way back, and she’s still crying. He says, “what’s wrong now?”
She says, “I’ve never been kissed”. sob.
Again, being a kind and compassionate fellow, he kisses her, on the lips!!!
He has one more lap of the beach to do, and he hears the armless and legless woman crying AGAIN. He’s getting a bit irritated by now.
He asks, ‘why are you crying now?”.
She says, “I’ve never been fucked”.
He says, “Well, you’ll be fucked soon. Tide’s coming in!”
To the tune of ‘The Who’s ‘Won’t get fooled again’.
We’ve been fighting in the streets
With our children at our feet
And the evil John Howard has now gone
But the man who spurred us on
Seems to now have lost his mind
And they’re dredging my beautiful bayI’m now not sure about the new constitution
Do we really want Kevni’s revolution?
Smile and grin at the change all around me
Pick up my guitar and play
Can we go back to yesterday?
Then I’ll get on my knees and pray
We don’t get fooled againThe change, we thought it had to come
We really believed it all along
We were liberated from our common sense that’s all
And the world looks just the same
And history ain’t changed
‘Cause Peter’s a lying prick to be sureThen I’ll get on my knees and pray
We don’t get fooled again
Don’t get fooled again
No, no!(Meet the new boss
Much worse than the old boss)Posted by AlphaMikeFoxtrot on 2008 02 09 at 04:39 AM • permalink#136, Pogria, My understanding of Aerodynamics and Nuclear Physics to start with. Oh and the fact my AC/DC collection has very limited amounts of Brian Johnson.
But I digress, the point here is that I am actually a Bogan.
Also the line “I’m smarter than the average bogan” is a whole lot funnier if you say it out loud in a Yogi Bear voice…
Posted by The_Wizard_of_WOZ on 2008 02 09 at 04:42 AM • permalinkThe Fatal Wedding - Apologies to Chad Morgan
Well, Traceee she died at the altar
Bald Pete he died next day
Flanners dropped dead in Gaia’s churchyard
As he was about to prayBob Brown eyed off the deputy PM
but refused to make the turn
And all the people stood and cheered
As they watched those dredge pumps churnAnd then the silt barge exploded
And the mud it started to fall
And the whole fucking crowd was swept away
And there was no one…left…at allPosted by Whale Spinor on 2008 02 09 at 05:06 AM • permalink147, Blue Öyster Cult is an American rock band formed in New York in 1967 and still active in 2008.
Posted by stackja1945 on 2008 02 09 at 05:08 AM • permalink#146, I was just thinking of the Yogi Bear intonation!
Well if you’ve got a blue singlet, I won’t quarrel, neither will I duel with you (except verbally, ha ha!). And since you speak Bogan and I don’t, we should have some pretty interesting discussions!
Mind you, if you’re smarter than the average Bogan, and real Bogans are average, then you have proved my point that you’re not a real Bogan because you’re not an average one.
Besides, I thought bogans drank beer, so what’s with the bourbon?
I don’t drink, so I don’t know these quaintnesses.Anyway, enough of these class issues, I’m a year older today. Made it through another year, hurray!
Posted by carpefraise on 2008 02 09 at 05:14 AM • permalinkHow can we sleep while the dredge is working?
How can we laugh over Tracee’s hurtin’?Posted by SwinishCapitalist on 2008 02 09 at 05:21 AM • permalink#150, Happy Birthday Carpe, and many more.
Who said Bogans are average? I didn’t. Bogans are very special people. But a stereotype of an ‘average Bogan’ does exist, and this is my reference point.
As for Bogans drinking habits, I shall quote the immortal Homer J. Simpson:
“If its brown, drink it down. If its black, send it back.”
However SERIOUS drinkers know that you don’t feel so bad the next day if you overindulge on whiskey instead of beer.
Posted by The_Wizard_of_WOZ on 2008 02 09 at 05:26 AM • permalinkHappy Birthday, Carpe!
But as the song goes:You load sixteen tons, and what do you get?
Another day older and deeper in debt!Ain’t it true.
Posted by stackja1945 on 2008 02 09 at 05:28 AM • permalinkThere I was thinking a little simple substitution with the lyrics of Disappointed by PIL would do the trick.
(Replacing friendship with dredging, that sort of thing.)
Then I thought “What would Johnny Lydon think?”
Fuck it, let the words stand, Traceee and Garrett can sing it as a duet.Yay, Janice!
I moan, I snap and pout
and do my hyperbolic ranting.
But still I have no clout.
I find it all so confounding.My favourite verse and it sings very nicely.
Thanks to the evil of Blair and James, it’s now possible for Traceee‘s friends and enemies to make a pointed point with her by just humming the tune.
Traceee: “Oh, my bay - I’m so sick of…”
Other: “Da-dum, la da-da dum…”#155, Pogs, Am not. I’m a child of the 80’s, I still know some of the old Bugs and Elmer toons from start to finish, simply because they were repeated so many times when I was young. At one point I actually had videos of the old WW2 anti Jap and German propaganda toons. I wish I still had them, they’d be worth a bundle now. Hanna-Barbera were also worth watching, but not in the same league as WB.
True not all Bogans wear wifebeaters, but this one does.
And I am so glad to hear you also despise Jim Beam. As far as bourbon goes, I prefer Jacks from the bottle or the orange 9% Bulleit cans, at least they taste like whiskey, not like the cheapest cola known to man.
But at the end of the day, like everything else in life, Irish is best. Cant beat Jameson.
BTW, a sub-Bogan is just a yobbo. Probly drives a ford too…
Posted by The_Wizard_of_WOZ on 2008 02 09 at 06:08 AM • permalinkAnd now, I do despair
the hour’s here, the final dredging
So mad , it makes me swear
I blue the air, like Warnie sledging
I’ve lived a life that’s green
Recycling each and ev’ry cliche
I bored and roared but still, they’re dredging my bayFrigates, we don’t need you
Now HoWARd’s gone, war’s out of fashion
We need no navy now, we’ll beat our foes with our compassion
I planned a protest march, with puppet heads and lots of latte
I bored and roared but still, they’re dredging my bayYes, those exports, we’ll beam them out
Container ships, without a doubt
endanger all the speckled sea trout
I made stuff up, and shouted out
I faced it all and I stood tall, no dredging my bay
I’ve sneered, and jeered and wrote
I’ve had my share, my fill of losing
And now, as tears well up, I find it all so confusing
To think I did all that
Anyway ,who won election day?,
“Oh, no, oh, no, don’t say, they’re dredging my bay”For who is this man, who is Garrett?
He’s not himself,a ruddled parrot
Don’t say the things he truly feels, his are the words of one who kneels
Gets up my nose, this really blows, they’re dredging my bay!Posted by eeniemeenie on 2008 02 09 at 06:20 AM • permalink#158, Poggy, Aint my birthday, but I’ll take any presents you feel like giving.
Your damn right I’m too young for Marilyn, I like my women breathing.
Baby Bogan? LOL Dont start the age thing with me. I’ll make you regret all those grey hairs and wrinkles :P
Anyway, how do you know I’m white? For all you know I’m Anh Do’s WOZie cousin.
Posted by The_Wizard_of_WOZ on 2008 02 09 at 06:21 AM • permalink#171 Woz,
SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!
I was looking at your BIO and didn’t realise that it said “most recent comment”.
SHIT!!!
Anyway, your birth year is 1981. You’re still a Baby!!! mleah!!!
Bushmill’s is still better than Jamieson’s.
Plus, I can spell Jamieson’s. nyah.
PLUS, I’m a Houso from The Valley. Nothing you do in WA can beat that!!! nyah nyah. ;)
And, now, I greatly fear
My Philip Bay is sadly dying.
Pete, I’ll say it clear
My unhealed soul is wracked with crying.I’ve lived a moonbat life
Strolled down every lefty byway
And still despite all this
Baldy Pete dredged my Bay.Fosters - I’ve had a few
But then again I can’t remember.
I did what moonbats do
From January through December.My honeyed voice became a hiss
In my columns of bile and spray
And, still, despite all this,
Baldy Pete dredged my Bay.I’ve hated all and laughed and cried
And cried and laughed from pain of losing.
And now as tears subside
The Blairites find it so amusing.For what is a moonbat? What has she got?
If not a brain, a Rorschach blot
To mean the things she thinks she feels
As though her head were full of eels
The record shows her tilting glows.
The moonbat pose is all she knows.Now I pine for soggy critters.
I whine and wail night and day
And, still, despite all this
Baldy Pete dredged my Bay.#172, Pogs, Shit I’d be doing well to be able to type on my first day of life…
“Plus, I can spell Jamieson’s. nyah.”
I have a bottle in front of me. Try their website if you don’t believe me.
I have to ask for clarification “Wog Chariot” and “houso from the valley”.
Does that make you a ‘valley girl’? :P
Posted by The_Wizard_of_WOZ on 2008 02 09 at 06:45 AM • permalink#175 Woz,
On further research, I concede, Jameson’s is spelt correctly. “stupid Irish”
However, Bushmill’s is still better.
You call yourself a Bogan!!!! and you DON’T know what a Wog Chariot is??????
For Shame!!
Your youth, is definitely showing.
Either that or, being from WA really is, a handicap.
The scene; a darkened office in Parliament House. A tall, creepy looking bald git stands pensively by the window overlooking the member’s courtyard…..
‘To dredge or not to dredge: that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of the idiots who voted for me,
Or to take arms against a bay of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand stupid protestors
That flesh is heir to, ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
Thus the polls does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard the bay’s currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. - Soft you now!
The fair Traceeeee! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember’d’.
(from Hamlet 3/1)Posted by AlphaMikeFoxtrot on 2008 02 09 at 07:13 AM • permalink#177, Pogs,
“On further research, I concede, Jameson’s is spelt correctly.”
I believe the correct term here, using established precedent, is NYAH! :P
Nope, no idea what a wog chariot is. Something like a rice burner I presume.
You made no attempt to explain the “houso from the valley”. I’ll just assume your a valley girl then.
Posted by The_Wizard_of_WOZ on 2008 02 09 at 07:16 AM • permalinkHappy birthday, Carpefraise.
Are you any relation to carpediem?
Posted by Nilknarf Arbed on 2008 02 09 at 07:34 AM • permalinkOh the queen of the netherlands keeps dredging
And there’s nothing that my columns seem to do.
It’s the change that I hate
And no Peter for my mate
Just makes it harder to believe I won’t have my bay.Apologies to
Cold Chisel and apologies for my dreadful attempt.Posted by Nilknarf Arbed on 2008 02 09 at 07:42 AM • permalinkSpeaking of wog chariots, google images appears to have a sense of humour.
Can anyone else explain the link between valiants and tents?
Posted by Nilknarf Arbed on 2008 02 09 at 07:48 AM • permalinkBugger. Just type “wog chariot” into google images with the inverted commas.
I’ll say sorry for my craptastic linkages tonight.
Posted by Nilknarf Arbed on 2008 02 09 at 07:55 AM • permalink#189 yeah, that was my instant reaction, Pogs. Nearly fell off my seat laughing.
Posted by Nilknarf Arbed on 2008 02 09 at 08:52 AM • permalink#181, Pogs, What is that? A Valiant POS?
Show me a val with a 426 and ill be impressed.
Anyway my VK Commodore with Alloy Wheels would eat that thing your driving.
As for Bushmills, Its actually quite hard to find in bottle shops over here and I find its not worth the effort.
From update II:
The dredger belched smoke intermittently over the course of the day.
Oh NO! That huge dredging ship has ENGINES! Gaia save us!
Posted by The_Wizard_of_WOZ on 2008 02 09 at 09:31 AM • permalinkFound the real video. My K looks alot like that one except my alloys are genuine VN SS’s and I aint got gay shit like stickers, spoilers or bonnet scoops.
Posted by The_Wizard_of_WOZ on 2008 02 09 at 09:39 AM • permalink“..The dredger belched smoke intermittently over the course of the day..”
That was the dolphins getting caught in the intake valve, you can usually poke them out with a bit of a shock to the genitals….
Posted by thefrollickingmole on 2008 02 09 at 09:46 AM • permalinkThe dredger belched smoke intermittently over the course of the day.
Not a problem, Garrett can toddle off and buy some carbon credits, just like Lord Goreacle™ does for His flying around the world.
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2008 02 09 at 02:17 PM • permalinkAlthough frankly I’ll be impressed when I see Clive James reading Ace of Spades…
Posted by richard mcenroe on 2008 02 09 at 04:55 PM • permalinkThank you for the birthday wishes, kae, stacka, W.o.W, Pogria (an especially flirty wink to you), nilk.
To answer your question, nilk, I have not met carpediem, but I’m sure that she too is a fine lump of flesh.
W.o.Woz, unflex those muscles (slowly, I need to inspect them very carefully. Mmm, not bad…) . Had I known I was speaking to such a young man, I would have been gentler in my prankish spirit.
What can the newly-boganed young know of real, earthy boganhood the way we, who battled in the linguistic trenches of yore, know it and its slurring progeny?
Well, I merely ask…
Posted by carpefraise on 2008 02 10 at 06:28 AM • permalinkWoz, is it really your birthday?
Happy birthday if so!
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday birthday-bogan-man
Happy birthday to yoo-o-o-o-o-o-o!Posted by carpefraise on 2008 02 10 at 06:32 AM • permalink#198, Carpe, see #171, ‘aint my birthday’.
“Had I known I was speaking to such a young man, I would have been gentler in my prankish spirit.”
I’m 26, the way you lot carry on I’m afraid your going to break a hip getting out of your chair or something :P
Anyways, I like the rough stuff :D
Posted by The_Wizard_of_WOZ on 2008 02 10 at 07:43 AM • permalink
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Firstly I’m just stunned Clive James reads the same blogs I do. Well at least one.