the ‘umble servant of yer majesties
steven john kilbey
here i am
bright as a button
sunday morning
see…?
i even work on sundays
just for your esteemed pleasure
no job too big or too small for the time being
painting singing writing
knocking out the best songs in twenty years
i mean the people have spoken
decisively
i wake up on sunday morning
feeling myself floating in a warm sea of kudos
and goodwill
hoping you all out there
appreciate how hard it was to write that best song
ah but theres the rub…..
theres the moral…
no
it was easy
it took no time at all
like buying a lottery ticket
or boarding a doomed plane
or fertilizing an egg
or shooting a barn
fate deals the cards
everything aligns
you come to a fork
either way : everything will change after this
sometimes i feel like i’m so close to working it all out
othertimes i’m sucked back into the bickering humdrum
i do feel like that
as writer of this best song
i should get the rust cut out of tibor free
and my front 2 teeth are chipped n need crowning
and a few other lurks n perks i could use too
look…its ludicrous
i should be made the national songwriter laureate
i should be stuck on some big stipend
and moved into a stately house
and i’d write songs for australia all day
(or any other country..
…if theres one interested reading this)
what do you want me to do…?
i could breeze around parlyment
knocking out pomes n paintings of the senators
i’d be an asset to any govvyment
i’d make everyone so habby….!
really it is a crime tho
look i’m too modest to do it for myself
or i’d go n tell ’em to sort me out proper
its a national disgrace
that the writer of the best song
should have weak water pressure in his shower
or little cockroaches in his keyboards
or neighbours waking him up from his deep sleep
the govt should recognize me now
before its too embarrassing for everyone involved
give me the dough and the luxurious gaff
put my kids in grammar school or something
give me an office staff and a driver
plus a license to kill
plus access to secret information…of course, why not..?
and anything else i feel i may bloody well want
revenge on some kids who picked on me at school
ha ha
imagine trackin’ em down
i’d turn up at their work with 2 govt thugs
hey knucklehead….
remember the time you stuck an ice cream
down the back of my shirt…?
and then i’d have my thugs
plaster the clown in devils food cake…
because
you just dont go around treating the writers of best songs that way
you show a little politesse
i know you know this already my fiends
but
oh god they’ll miss me when i’m gone
the last of the best
the cleanest star they ever had…
look australia is not drowning in renaissance men
its a cryin’ shame i gotta point it out to ’em
but theyre a bit thick , over here sometimes
they cant see which way up the breads got its non dairy spread
anywhere else would have snapped me up by now
given me a position or a title
a consultancy
imagine
youre some “straight” man
you come to see me for advice
advice in bohemiamness and all things hippy
i could burn you a popul vuh cd
or read you something from mervyn peake
or roll you a number
sit you down
and direct inject 80 minutes of pure painkiller
in to your numb skull
because my bass guitar cures the blues at 20 paces
(does anyone reading this ever think i’m a little self-obsessed?)
i could scuff up yer shoes
and spill paint on yer sleeves
i could run you through the greek roman norse and hindu pantheons
or explain the difference
between steve peregrine took n mickey finn
i could show you a yoga pose i found helpful with….*
*(insert your malady du jour here)
or just….
summer usurped spring here yessaday
it was too hot
and i felt like a strange old stranger in a real strange land
every now an then i realise
i’m a northern hemi type
marooned down here
in this sun blasted place
in the afternoon seeking cool air
the fambley n i
fled to the cliff tops at watsons bay
where the mighty heads open up to the pacific
and sydneys magnificent harbour doth begin
eve kilbey running hither n thither doing cartwheels
shes hit the cartwheel stage just like elli n minna did
they were forever kicking me in los cojones
trying to do cartwheels in my old flat in sthlm
aurora more like me…no cartwheels for her
but evies like a bleeding acrobat
shes also running round screaming at the top of her lungs
she is so exuberant n full o’ energy
will you bloody well keep it down i say a hundred times
but she is indomitable
as usual as per sydney
dogs have fouled this beautiful park everywhere
youre standing there looking out to sea
on the very eastward edge of the land
a sheer drop of thousands of feet
you see seagulls wheeling below…..
and yet
the whole time you gotta watch out for…..yechhh!
sorry folks
i say
no doggies in the city
or
death penalty for uncleared up muck
cause i’m over it
we live in fucking paradise with dogs muck everywhere
you go to the nicest poshest most whatever suburb
and there it is
an outrage!
a truly disgusting blight on civilization
some harsh new penalties must be introduced
maybe when turnbull is pm
he can wade into the eastern suburbs dogs muck issue
maybe only he can truly take it on….
to add insult to injury
i am drinking from a water fountain
when a disgusting dog leaps into my face
licking at me and the water
i stand up and fix the fleabitten mongrels stupid owner
a steely reproving look
he merely says
you shoulda slapped him down mate…!
oh i see
it was my fucking fault
i should be having a drink of water
and slapping down a strange mutt
whose imbecile has let them run amok
i dont know bout where you live
but bondi cant afford anymore dogs
they even are going on the frickin’ boardwalk at the beach
the owners think its their right
for their dog to go and do it anywhere…!
hey look i got a rant going here
muse: and all yer rich dog loving subscribers switching off..
oh not so hasty there
oh look i love animals…honest
and small children
and old people
and the “straights”
and the ‘ippies
and the gay and happy people
and the football fans wherever they may roam
everybody
we take em all in
the time being will not refuse a soul
look
heres a green dream for little poochie