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BUSH GOTHIC

by Euie b Graham

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1.
SUNKEN EYES 03:09
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Taking him for granted, asking him a favour Telling him about your terribly hard existence Look into his sunken eyes Just another player working for a dollar Talk about the chaps who race around in fancy cars Look into their sunken eyes Money is just a chapter, wealth is just a saying Greed is like a shower adding to a giant river As deep and dark as sunken eyes Curse the politicians, argue with your family Laughing at your neighbours, spreading filthy rotten lies Look into his sunken eyes
2.
GOLDEN HOLE 03:26
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In a golden hole digging for a fortune Looking up at the sky which is a circle of blue In a golden hole working like a pack horse Soaking wet cause I’ve been working too true Everyone’s talking about the mateship we’re supposed to be forging I’m only in this game until someone helps me find a cure In a golden hole digging for a future got plans and a family to raise In a golden hole talking like a teacher Thinking about the stories I’m gonna tell Everyone’s talking about the nuggets others keep on finding Bottle that feeling and I’d be making profits not just trying Keep on trying
3.
BAILED UP 00:53
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4.
BUSHRANGER 03:43
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My energy cannot be questioned Living rough, sleeping in a hole in the ground My liberty is not forsaken Despite the fact that I got the law on my back My sanity has not been broken Even though a black tracker’s hot on my scent From time to time I wonder what it would be like As a family man, mouths to feed, land to work, a living to earn But I’m a fool for the wild life Master of horse stealing, beer brawling Lying down face in the mud Washing once a month, sleeping rough, the thrill of the bail up The look of sheer panic on the faces of those rich bastards and ladies My charity is stuff of legend Giving out to poor people hard on their luck My sanctuary is in the mountains Where I know the country like the back of my hands Catch me if you can because I am the bushranger man
5.
WELL DONE DIGGER MATE 03:18
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He’s a hard man to get to know On doctor’s orders to take it slow Well done digger mate Never had children, now it’s too late Thinking about the horrors buried in his past Comrades and friends never thought he’d last Well done digger mate Living in a messed up wretched state Life has dealt a savage hand The medals in his bottom draw Are all that’s left to see, of a young man’s broken heart The posters on the wall, are windows to a life unknown
6.
THE BANSHEE 02:30
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White sheets and a haunting stair Appearing out of thin air Her long hair shining in the moonlight Who has she come for tonight Combing her hair with a brush made of bone Please leave us alone Sunken eyes and a hideous face Tell me who you’re after Is it Mary Joe, Jonathan or baby Grace Please don’t give me an answer I can’t bear to hear the sound of your voice The deathly whispering and the sound of the vixen’s cry Tell me who you’re after
7.
STRIKE ME BLOODY PINK 03:22
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Strike me bloody pink, strike me bloody pink I’ve been banged up in this prison for six long years I’ve got handcuffs, scars and a pisspot full of tears So strike me bloody pink, I said strike me bloody pink There’s a mark on my wall for every day I’ve spent Rotting all alone in this godforsaken hole so Strike me bloody pink, I said strike me bloody pink The traps have got my measure and the State has got my treasure And the whole town’s full of dirty rotten drunks So strike me bloody pink, again strike me bloody pink I’ve seen you following my mate Matthew Walking around like a cloths peg on a Sunday morning You and me we don’t need to live here no longer With a wild spade beard and a curse in my eyes No one dares to taunt me till I’m in them chains So strike me bloody pink, I said strike me bloody pink There’s a place I can find in my cold steel mind Our selection full of sheep and the grass is always green So strike me bloody pink, I said strike me bloody pink We don’t need to live here no longer The magistrate’s a liar because they set the place on fire And the only home I got is in this filthy rotten cell Strike me bloody pink, strike me bloody pink
8.
CONVICT ON THE RUN 01:56
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9.
NEWSTEAD 02:35
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Green grazing land viewed from a distance Woodland hills and a far away house Counting all the trees that are missing Bare bones, bracken valley witchcraft nature has the last laugh Life cycle turns over the pages Waiting crows and the scourge of the land Hungry bastard job for a hunter Wood piles, constant drone of chain saws cutting over yonder Menacing and sure what they’re doing – wasteland Pondering fields, wide open spaces Playtime fancy wilderness, or a death day giant stage Private wooded corner in a faraway gaze Binoculars for eyes and a camera Bare bones, bracken valley witchcraft nature has the last laugh nature has the last laugh
10.
CANTER 01:24
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11.
MURDER AT MIA MIA CREEK 05:00
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I’ve been feeling edgy I can’t sleep like a baby, there’s something in the corner of my eye. Every time I try to put a finger on the problem, it escapes me like a convict on the run. Murderer – That’s what I call myself and it doesn’t make me smile Every time I take a look into the bathroom mirror, it’s his eyes that are waiting for me Murderer – That’s what they speak to me and I’m growing kind of weary I’ve been re-enacting, that final fatal hour, feeling goose pimples, wicked and shame. The money was the lure and my buddy was the victim, with a shovel blade between his eyes. Murderer – It’s time I faced a jury, that doesn’t make me smile. I’ve been contemplating a new course of action, a trip back to the scene of the crime. Murderer – That’s what I call myself and it doesn’t make me smile I cannot help but see his reflection in the corner of my mind. Mia Mia creek bed flows to the valley to where we stumbled upon gold. That’s where I left him, under the water, shame we couldn’t have agreed. Chained by the memory, haunted by the vision, his eyes the colour of the crime.
12.
PARAPHERNALIA CRIME 02:24
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13.
CACKHOUSE RAT 03:06
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A dirty man working deep in the ground Forgets the time of day, cant think of what to say If he’s asked a question by the law He’s as dirty as a cackhouse rat The people on his back are feeling quite sure That he has committed a crime and now he’ll have to do the time Because he’s a stranger to these parts A travelling man, happy go lucky, lugubrious smile, twinkle in his eye A shady past, uncertain name, convict blood, a fortune to find He’s as dirty as a cackhouse rat boy dirty as a cackhouse rat Sleeps on the ground, doesn’t know his age Reads ancient verse in the starlight, quotes from time to time Talks about the old times the golden finds, mates doing time There’s trouble in them there hills boy trouble in them there hills Black man’s got it bad, digger’s got it worse Walks from town to town, looking for a purpose looking for a mate Looking at the padlock on that gate He’s as dirty as a cackhouse rat boy dirty as a cackhouse rat He’s got friends inside, they remember his name, friends inside Dirty as a cackhouse rat
14.
LITTLE BUSH FUNERAL 02:47
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The sun was hot, the ground was dry Feet were dragging dust into a pale blue sky On Sunday at the little bush funeral The relatives, and faraway friends Were talking all about the latest weather trends On Sunday at the little bush funeral Remembering the painful search Eating sandwiches at the local church On Sunday at the little bush funeral The parson said “a terrible case, but she’s gone away to a better place” On Sunday at the little bush funeral A mother cries, a father frowns All that’s left to do is put her in the ground On Sunday at the little bush funeral
15.
BONE DRY BLUES 02:51
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We’ve got the bone dry, the bone dry blues We’ve got an empty sky and nothing to lose We’ve got a hopeless case, the land of our dreams This here home base is not what it seems We’ve got a sentimental pocket full of self-pity Doesn’t change the bone dry, the bone dry blues We’ve got the aspirin and watering cans We’ve got the coke bottles, upside down We’ve got the vegetables growing in clay The time to harvest, we just couldn’t say We’ve got the drought fever, skeletons, dead trees, home paddock Bone dry, the bone-dry blues We’ve got the landscapes, all covered in stumps We’ve got the old cars and broken down pumps We’ve got the pasture, yellow and dry We’ve got a perfect clear blue sky We’ve got a dry well, wheelbarrow. Coffee bush and timber And the bone dry, the bone-dry blues The bone bone, bone dry blues We’ve got a sentimental pocket full of self-pity Doesn’t change the bone dry, the bone dry blues
16.
BUSH DEVIL DEVIL 02:30
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Called towards the trees, the wind combing the grasslands and stinging his eyes. Dug up stumps lie very still, entangled in their tortured roots like offerings to the great dry sky. The trees seem impenetrable from a distance, but like a war weary army, thin out as you approach. Bark dances along their great trunks like flames in soft browns and earth pinks. Standing cautiously amidst bush remnants armed with a carry bag and a jaw bone. The night draws its daggers, the panicky darkness shrouds the isolated figure. His rabid eyes ablaze and teeth like wooden spokes weathered for decades under a fierce sun. Crawling, desperate, wasted and alone. Calling out, howling at the moon. Skin turned grey like weathered wood, drink from a muddy billabong, sleep inside a hollow log. Grown wild with time, ferocious, only flames can hold him back. Wild man bush devil devil wild man.
17.
THE DAM 04:12
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Follow the sheep track to a lonely damn Is this where I’ll find you my child Where the wild oats grow between bones If you had a choice would you ever leave? If I had a choice I would never leave Where the grass is combed under a summer sky When the sun goes down and the moon is high This is the place where I look for you Your laughter was the last thing that I heard Now I want to drown myself in shame Forever a child in an ancient land Follow the sheep track to a lonely damn Is this where I’ll find you my child Where the wild oats grow between bones If you had a choice would you ever leave? If I had a choice I would never leave
18.
GUMTIPS 00:52
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19.
PICK UP STICKS 02:08
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Pick up sticks to keep us warm Staring deeply into the evening sky Make up a song while watching the flames Talking endlessly like in a mid nightmare Come on come on come on come on Let’s play with fire baby let’s be dangerous together Pick up sticks to keep the flames high Looking deeply into the evening sky Talk of love like it’s a last breath Just another obstacle on the way to death Come on come on come on come on Let’s play with fire baby let’s be dangerous together
20.
SUN GEM 00:52
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21.
20 YEARS IN THE BUSH 03:11
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The days are long, I cannot sleep Living like a mountain man in his cups Sitting on a mullock heap in the sun My hands have seen better days It’s been so long, I can’t recall The last time I had a clean towel and a shave Waiting for my luck to turn around This life is simply killing me Sit amidst the trashcans and broken down cars A place which has slowly become a home 20 years in the bush makes a man feel plenty All those dreams that were left underneath the clay I can work all day – he must work all day I can work all day – he must work all day And if I start to feel a little self pity I must quickly dig a hole and bury it For it surely makes a mockery of my endeavours To reclaim the fateful dream that I have lost
22.
MICK O'PICK R.I.P. 01:48
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about

Delving deeper into imagery drawn from Australian folk law. The songs use a rather austere aesthetic to muster characters steeped in liquor, hardship and remembrance. I was reading Australian literature - Patrick White; Xavier Herbert; David Malouf, Peter Carey; Christina Stead - recounting tails of bushrangers, prospectors and convicts, trapped in a battle with the land, the elements and hopeless toil.
I wanted my voice to sound encrusted, hagged and ancient as if exhumed from a mullock heap and left to dry out in the midday sun like a roo skin for a dilly bag.
An important influence at this time was Tom Waits whose ability to conjure characters soaked in "bitters and blue ruin" strung out in dingy bars and sewers made an impression.
The final song of this collection was recorded on September 11th 2001, ducking in and out of the TV room, astonished by world events.

credits

released October 1, 2001

All songs written and recorded by Euan B Graham between March and September 2001.

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Euie b Graham Canberra, Australia

Ending formal lessons on violin, I began writing songs in 1992, graduating to a four-track cassette recorder shortly after, and the addictive journey of composing then recording was entrenched. I continue, assimilating influences and forging my own way. I shy away from performing, I write, record then move on. I would love others to listen and enjoy, and hold out hope that I May find an audience. ... more

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