1. Dingo
2. Back Of Beyond
3. Witnessing
4. I Get A Kick Out Of You
5. The Lightkeeper Of America

dingo

he was nought but a windy old bushranger, sir,
his ways, i know, appearing somewhat strange.
he roamed the country wide with a song-thorn in his side
and a memory of an old blue mountain range.
 
well now, it really doesn't matter, i know,
just how it came to pass that
a bounty got placed on his hide.
no, the only thing that matters and
the thing that he done wrong was
to lose it in the morning one time,
that poor boy,
he did lose it in the morning one time.
 
dingo, dingo there's a hunter coming.
up, dingo, run
 
from his lair hidden so well by ghost gums and pine
and the tracks that he covered far behind,
taking leave of his mate, he ran down to meet his fate
upon the plain just as the sun began to climb.
 
well now, it really doesn't matter, i know,
just how It came to pass that
he paid for the ways of his kind,
no, the only thing that matters and
the thing that he done wrong was
to lose it in the morning one time,
that poor boy,
he did lose it in the morning one time.
 
dingo, dingo, there's a hunter coming.
up dingo run.

back of beyond
 
excuse me, could you light your lamp
and guide me from this slum?
my friend just opened up his wrists
in search of kingdom come.
eternity is hard to bear,
when buried deep in hell.
nowhere to go, devoid of dough
and nothing left to sell.
 
you know,
i only want to visit your place
to discuss with you what we might do
to gain a little holy grace.
but if you re not in a talking mood
because your life is broken, too,
then i'll simply sit and hold your wing
and share the hymn with you.
or we can hitch our thumbs upon the wind
and sail into the blue.
 
each time he reaches for the sun,
man must cast a shadow.
mine has fallen in the dirt more
times than on a meadow.
but now and then it lands inside
the light of paradise,
upon those times the pantomime
will let me roll the dice.
 
you know,
i only want to visit your place
to discuss with you what we might do
to gain a little holy grace
but if you're not in a talking mood
because your lover just shot through,
then i'll simply sit and hold your wing
and share the hymn with you.
or we can hitch our thumbs upon the wind
and sail into the blue.
 
turning in your direction now,
please know it's me i bring.
if we are meant to just pass by,
perhaps you'll hear me sing
let no one deny your right to
live a free existence.
watch out and pray for anyone
placed below subsistence
 
you know,
i only want to visit your place
to discuss with you what we might do
to gain a little holy grace.
but if you're not in a talking mood
because your life is coming true,
then i'll simply sit and hold your wing
and share the hymn with you.
or we can hitch our thumbs upon the wind
and sail into the blue

witnessing
 
sweet melancholy, gather me in,
bring me the sound of rain.
bring me the curl of an autumn leaf
or an old shoe in a drain.
take my feet on a weary road,
let poor men pass me by.
tell me again no tale on earth
unfolds a dreamer's sky,
 
life remains a mystery,
so please don't question me.
for i am just a divine baboon
witnessing the solar journey.
 
sweet light of morning, gather me in,
bring me a shot of sun.
bring me an old kookaburra's laugh
or a wild thing on the run.
take these eyes and turn them around
then, wall-eyed, let me see.
spin me again the yarn of old
that helps a man go free.
 
life remains a mystery,
so please don't question me.
for i am just a divine baboon
witnessing the solar journey.

i get a kick out of you
 
i get no kick from champagne,
mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all.
so tell me, why should it be true
that i get a kick out of you?
 
some get a kick from cocaine,
i 'm sure that if it took just one more sniff
that would bore me terrifically, too
yet i get a kick out of you,
 
i get a kick every time i see you
standing there before me
i get a kick though it's patently clear,
that you obviously don t adore me,
 
i get no kick in a plane
flyin' too high with some bird in the sky
is my idea of nothing to do
yet i get a kick out of you
 
i get no kick in a plane
flying too high with some bird in the sky
is my idea of nothing to do
yet i get a kick
mmm such a kick
yet i get a kick out of you
Christiane Marie Konczewski*
i get a kick
yes such a kick
yet i get a kick out of you
yes i do

(*adlib - see Gary's 1975 album
 "The Greatest Stone on Earth")

the lightkeeper of america
 
bold hero would wait hungrily,
love's lamp alight held high,
to join her each night, leander
would swim the ocean wide.
one stormy night the light went out
and he drowned in the tide.
she flung herself into the sea
beside her love to die.
 
oh, lightkeeper keep your pledge of love
to those adrift the stormy sea,
lightkeeper keep your pledge of love
burning . . .
 
that bright-eyed ancient mariner
an albatross he spied,
he crucified it on his bow
and all his sailors died.
then life-in death she won his soul
at dice and evermore
in penance, land to land, he tells
his tale of holy law.
 
now mother exile stands against
her desecrated sky,
her light condemned, her ankles chained,
a dead bird in her eye.
aboard the stolen "liberty''
in search of freedom's bell,
a black flag flies upon the mast.
indeed, all is not well.
 
oh, lightkeeper keep your pledge of love
to those adrift the stormy sea.
lightkeeper keep your pledge of love
burning . . .

6. Seagull And Swan
7. The Ballad Of Blasted Creek
8. Lump In The Bed
9. Aborigine
10. Without A Song

seagull and swan
 
old pirate seagull, out there upon the ocean,
tell me, why? why do you tear at the flesh of the sea?
to quote all the laws, passed to pardon your plunder,
only opens deeper wounds of more questions in me.
 
lay your little song on me, why don'tcha?
maybe it can set me free or let me fly.
 
oh, how i wish that i had been there when
the very first man to say ''once upon a time" said,
"once upon a time . . ."
 
yes, i truly would have liked to have been there when
the very first tale began "once upon a time" way back,
once upon a time
 
i'm sure you'll agree, my friends, it must have been &emdash;
surely was &emdash; it must have been an opportune time,
you know, it kind a makes you wonder . . .
 
wild swan a-flying on high by my window there,
i wonder if i might perhaps just trouble you for
one more gentle dip of your long and slender wing
to rest assure me again of the way to the shore
 
lay your little song on me, why don'tcha?
maybe it can set me free or let me fly

the ballad of blasted creek
 
poor old tim got umpteen years inside,
as everybody knows.
for sucking on a stick of grass
they give him denim clothes.
he lived high on a mountain but ,
they picked up on his trail.
it's sad to relate the family fate
since tim got put in jail.
 
roll another gently, friend,
roll another slow, light up and get a load of yourself,
southerlybuster blow.
 
our plants all died a month ago, just
saved one by a fluke, but
i hid it in the barn that got
burnt down by brother stuke.
 
the cleaning screens are rusty now,
the place is up for sale.
god knows what else may turn to junk before
they let tim out of jail.
 
sweet rose she fell for some strange bloke who's
gone and we don't know where.
the welfare came to shake her hand
and say, "it's just not fair"!
sweet sally has this fiddler man
forever within hail
and the family may have grown a bit
when tim gets out of jail.
 
they sprung tim out before his time to
give us all a surprise.
he came home and he looked around,
appearing very wise.
he shook hands with the fiddler, said,
"i hope to hear you wail,''
then he left and the last we heard of him
he'd wound up back in jail.
 
roll another gently, friend, roll another slow,
light up and get a load of yourself,
southerlybuster blow.

lump in the bed
 
time, time and again i find, deep down inside,
something keeps telling me no lie.
it repeatedly comes by, reminding me to try,
but lord, it's a hard life
when the half-a-chance you've sought remains removed,
it just tends to place a man, any man,
on the edgy side of blue,
therefore, i'd have you all to please understand that
everything i've ever been or ever done, it seems,
just led me here,
and anything i may have learned along the way came down
to love or fear
so i do thank you all so very, very much -
i mean the ones who touched when the times were bad,
 
because the
bad times tend to make a big lump in the bed,
bad times tend to make a big lump in the bed,
bad times tend to make a big lump in the bed,
bad times tend to make a man wish he were dead.
bad times fall like coal-black rain,
hope they don't come back again.
we need - hey, don't you know we need a good time.
let's have a good time once again
 
it seems every place i've ever been through
somehow has kept a little part of me.
from the city square, outback of nowhere,
on a mountain or running by the sea,
and approaching the sea, at any old time,
is sure, i know, to leave me feeling fine
and bring the promise of forever's wind
tumbling and rolling all over my mind.
now there are times it flies,
you'd swear that it cries,
"bye, bye, old friend, i have to be gone,
should you ever find you're troubled in mind,
just say the word and i'll be right along."

aborigine
 
a thousand miles the other side of sundown,
outback of where
they reckon the dead men lie.
the songmen say
rainbow-serpent-whirlwind men
in dreamtime days
carried stones across the sky.
 
aborigine, where is your sunset?
aborigine, where is your sun?
 
a thousand miles beyond the never-never,
(where) crows fly backwards
to keep dust out of their eye,
the songmen say he who loses his dreaming
is lost, is lost
and the darkness fills his sky
 
aborigine, where is your sunset?
aborigine, where is your sun?
 
without a song
without a song the day would never end.
without a song the road would never bend.
when things go wrong a man ain't got a friend,
without a song.
 
that field of corn would never see a plough.
that field of corn would be a desert now.
a man is born but he s no good nohow,
without a song.
i've had my trouble and woe, but sure as i know
that river will roll.
i'll get along, as long as a song
is strong in my soul.
 
i'll never know what makes the rain to fall.
i'll never know what makes the grass so tall.
i only know there ain't no love at all,
without a song

WORDS AND MUSIC BY GARY SHEARSTON
© COPYRIGHT 1974, 2004

EXCEPT "I GET A KICK OUT OF YOU"
WORDS AND MUSIC BY COLE PORTER

AND "WITHOUT A SONG"
WORDS BY WILLIAM ROSE AND EDWARD ELISCU, MUSIC BY VINCENT YEOMANS