Lyrics

Whoa Whoa Whoa It's a Broad Lick Nic, and I'll tell you while I'm able Or I'll smash your skull if you'll not drink enough Black Label It's a hard man's drink and though the bottle's broken Put your money on the table, strain the glass through your teeth So, we grew up lean, mean, kings of the street scene Without a mother's guiding hand to keep us clean Down your rum, we'll take life as it comes (Hey!) And all you blue rinse critics, lick our literary bum I drank my first pure malt before I was three Smoked a pack of Dutch cigarettes my pappy left for me And I romanced a little lass who was twelve years my elder At the age of six I held her That year I also bed her So before I was seven My first child was born I told a pack of filthy lies as a politician Heard my own confession as an act of contrition I spent ten years as a Trappist monk in a village in Tibet (Liar!) And I walked up Everest naked just to win a bet (Hey) Whoa Whoa Well I cut off my leg to win a one legged race And when I won I stitched it on my little sister's stomach I fought Mohammed Ali, I've seduced Mata Hari I've even worn a sari when I impersonated Gandhi And I dare any man here to call me a liar (Liar!) But I swear I've seen Ezekiel, I swear I've seen Isaiah Toasting marshmallows in Beelzebub's fire And we're mad (mad!), bad (bad!), dangerous to know We never gave a tinker's cuss about the seeds we'd sow And we stay up late and never be forlorn (Hey!) And when the morning comes around we'll kiss the crack of dawn (Shame, Fraser. Shame) We took the wax from Kerouacs and dusty Dostoevskys And when all was said and done, booze was all I had left me For all the world's great thinkers are all a load of pus And if you asked how Zarathustra spoke, he spake thus: Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink until you're drunk Drink until you can't stand up Till you're roly-poly stung Till your bladder bursts, till you throw a fit to curse Till they lift you up still comatose and slam you in the hearse And we're good (good!), bad (bad!), ugly as sin We mixed up cough syrup with our gin So take your medicine I pray that when I die (Hey!) There'll be someone else around to kiss my arse goodbye Yes I pray, I pray, I pray that when I die There'll be someone else around to kiss my arse goodbye [PAUL Spoken: Grazie, grazie, grazie. Thank you very much. Molto belissimo. We're back] [TIM Spoken: Hello beautiful, big [?] city of Sydney. It's great to be playing here this evening, to our home crowd] [PAUL Spoken: This is the night where we present, uh, the first material we ever did. Uh, this show is called "Sweetness and Light" and these songs that you'll hear over the next four or five hours, uh... are the first ambitious attempts to seize the imagination of the nation. Um, and joining us tonight is a very special guest. He was the original band for the Doug Anthony Allstars. He left us several years ago after he had a mental breakdown. But he's back with us tonight, we're very proud to introduce him. Um, he must be described, I suppose, as a very close personal friend of Tim's and I'm here to present him tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, the ubiquitous Robert Fidler. Richard!] [TIM Spoken: Richard!] [PAUL & TIM Spoken: Richard Fidler!] [TIM Spoken: Richard's very tired. Paul and I got into a lot of trouble last night with Richard, because we were in Melbourne and we went to the Crown Casino and we left him locked in the car for six hours] [PAUL Spoken: Oh, it was terrible, when we came back there was just slobber all over the window] [RICHARD Spoken: No bowl of water, either]