10th Man
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Has anyone ever explained coastal erosion to Tony Abbott?
It’s just a little side-effect of climate change
And you’re not going to stop the waves Tony with your green army!
Australia’s washing away

Somewhere along the line
There’s been a miscarriage of justice (x3)

And has anyone ever explained ocean acidification to Barnaby J?
It’s just another little side-effect of climate change.
If Barnaby just had a bit of chemistry
Next time he’s having a beer with Tony he can say
Those waves that are washing Australia away
They’re waves of acid - washing Australia away
They’re waves of acid - washing Australia away

And has anyone ever explained to Joe Hockey
That if you don’t have an environment
You don’t have an economy?
And you can’t solve the world’s problems
By eating a bloody hamburger

Somewhere along the line
There’s been a miscarriage of justice (x3)
Miscarriage of Justice

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Luv my gun, shoot ‘em in the head
Luv my gun
I love animals, their heads on the wall
Luv my gun

I shot elephants and I’ve shot deer
I shot a lion and I shot a bear
Cause I luv my gun

It’s my culture, it’s meat on the plate
Luv my gun
Luv my gun, shoot em all dead
Luv my gun

I shot Skippy, and I shot a hippy
I shot a lion and I shot a bear
Cause I luv my gun

If you go camping in the woods today
Luv my gun
Don’t wear an orange beanie and don’t brush your teeth
Cause I luv my gun

I shot elephants and I’ve shot deer
I’ve shot a lion and I’ve shot a bear
And I’d shoot a panda in the face if you let me
Luv my Gun
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I am the captain of this ship
Please don’t blame me for the bad trip
We’ve battled the seas and we’ve conquered the Straits
There’s no rum left and the food ain’t great

I am the captain of the ship
Don’t point your finger at me (x2)
You don’t want to get buried at sea
I get paid by the head you see
We pulled into Rio and sampled the wares
And for a moment we lost all our cares

I am the captain of the ship
Don’t point your finger at me, no
Don’t point your finger at me

The crew are drunk, the ropes are broke
Haul ‘em up boys
Haul ‘em up boys
The seas are rough, our cargo is tough
Hold on for your life

We’ll make it I promise, despite all the rubbish
And one day we’ll see Sydney
Don’t point your finger at me boy
Don’t point your finger at me

The roaring forties pushed us on
The human cargo carried on in song
About no air and dirty water
Slowly all of our tempers got shorter

I am the captain of the ship
Don’t point your finger at me, no
Don’t point your finger at me

Finally we sighted the Heads
I summoned the crew and we counted the dead
We all cheered when we hit the ground
We sought grog and women in old Sydney Town

I am the captain of the ship
Don’t point your finger at me, no
Don’t point your finger at me

We’re rough and ready and not very steady
We’ll drink til dawn, our sorrows are gone
The ship is repaired, and ready to go, Go, Go, Go!

Don’t point your finger at me, no
Don’t point your finger at me

I am the captain
Of the ship
Please don’t blame me
For the bad trip
The Captain

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I am the modern warrior, I fight the urban sprawl
I am the lonely beggar sitting in the Pitt Street mall
I am the western suburbs, jammed up with the bogan homes
I am the hungry monster, built upon greed and sandstone

And when the sun goes down, you’ll see the dark side of this town
You’ll go down down down down
Down down to Sydney town
Down, to Sydney town
Rape and pillage, it’ll take your soul
It’ll steal your innocence
It will take it all, it’ll take it all (x2)
It’ll take it all

I am the Hawkesbury River, the ghosts at Callan Park
A tattooed arm at Coogee spewed up from a tiger shark
I am James Hardie Fibro, dioxins in the bay
Shootin’ up at Cabramatta, having coffee in a [Bronte] Beach café

And when the sun goes down, you’ll see the dark side of this town
You’ll go down down down down
Down down to Sydney town
Down, to Sydney town

Rape and pillage, it’ll take your soul
It’ll steal your innocence
It will take it all, it will take it all (x2)

It will take it all

I am the deals and handshakes, going down in Macquarie Street
An outrage at Mount Rennie (or Mount Penny)
I’m standing at the wharf, I’m on the beat
I am your local Westfield, an old and groaning wharf
Listen to the ghosts of the colony
Listen to us, hear us talk

And when the sun goes down, you’ll see the dark side of this town
You’ll go down down down down
Down down to Sydney town

Down down down down
Down, down to Sydney town

Rape and pillage, it’ll take your soul
It’ll steal your innocence
It will take it all, it’ll take it all (x2)

It will take it all

Yeah it’ll take it all, and leave you with nothing
Sydney Town

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Doing tours of the local soup kitchens
Sick and tired of the constant bitching
Need a blanket just to keep me warm
But all the blankets are gone

I’m drinking muscat from a paper bag
I get my comfort from this fortified slag
I go to sleep under city lights
I’m dossing out tonight

Oh oh oh, dossing out tonight
Oh oh oh, under a moonlit night
Head to the cross for a little more action
The Wayside Chapel is high and packed in
Find some money on Victoria Street
Then dodge the coppers on the beat

I see the Salvos in a nearby park
A shining light in the misty dark
Fall asleep feeling cold and shitty
It’s just another night in the city

Oh oh oh, dossing out tonight
Oh oh oh, under a moonlit night

Busking Crown Street - pots and pans
Stinking overcoat and dirty hands
Dodge the rednecks - they’re on the prowl
I need a cigarette now

I’m moved on from station to station
I’ve never time to contemplate my situation
You’ll see me on your way to work
In the shadows I lurk

Oh oh oh, dossing out tonight
Oh oh oh, under a moonlit night

Dossing Out
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First Series, 27. "Dossing Out" and "Camping" . Henry Lawson. 1896

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How can you condemn me before I’m even born
How do you define insanity when you can’t define the norm
You can’t hear the voices, you can’t feel the pain
We all make different choices
And now I’m certified insane, insane
I’m certified insane

Institutions, revolutions, history unwinds
Reality has shattered and it opens up my mind
You can’t hear the voices, you can’t feel the pain
We all make different choices
And now, now I’m certified insane, insane
I’m certified insane, insane
Oh I’m certified

I’m certified
You got me certified
I’m insane
Certified insane
Certified
Insane
http://fractaljourney.blogspot.com.au/

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Statue stands on Kings Parade
Surveyor with a noble gaze
White man’s tribute to the time
When they crossed the Great Divide
Yeah, when they crossed the Great Divide

1813 was the year
The governor moved the troops out here
So they opened up the plains
To dispossession, fear and pain
Yeah, fear and pain

See the fires burning bright
Feel the anger and the fright
From your homeland you must run
Because the war has just begun

So they came and took up the land
Farmers, soldiers and the convict man
And they brought their rule of law
Where the wealthy rule the poor
Yeah, where the wealthy rule the poor

Grab your children, run and hide
Run from all your sacred sites
From disease, death and scourge
Your bravest heroes will emerge

Lonely statue on the plains
Birdshit blocks your noble gaze
The fairytale of your glory
Is just a made-up hollow story
Yeah, it’s a made-up hollow story

Fairytale of your glory
Is just a made-up hollow story

1813
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Well the land-grab started here for them so many years ago
When Mitchell opened up the plains they called it Jericho
Now farms are not enough to spin the dollars for the kings
So they’re going to dig for coal in Galilee

Galilee Galilee
Valley of great riches, come on and gather coal
Galilee Galilee
Saddle-up your horses, we’re going for the gold

Well you’re going to need a railway from here to Abbott Point
Don’t worry about the EIS, we’ll doctor a report
Just point your hands in front of you directly to the sea
And you’ll haul your stinking coal from Galilee

Galilee Galilee
Valley of great riches, come on and gather coal
Galilee Galilee
Saddle-up your horses, we’re going for black gold

So saddle up the government, we’ll take them for a ride
The Chinese and the Indians are waiting for their prize
Now the Brigalow and Bimblebox will fade from memory
As you haul your stinking coal from Galilee

Galilee Galilee
Valley of great riches, come on and gather coal
Galilee Galilee
Saddle-up your horses, we’re going for black gold

We’ll dump the sludge into the reef, the fish’ll be just fine
Its only sediment my friend, from Bowen bloody mines
The climate it’ll be alright you wait and frickin’ see
As we dig our fuckin’ holes in Galilee

Galilee Galilee
Valley of great riches, come on and gather coal
Galilee Galilee
Saddle-up your horses, we’re going for black gold

Galilee Galilee
Valley of great riches, come on and gather coal
Galilee Galilee
Saddle-up your horses, we’re going for black gold
Hey!

Galilee

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While the men were unyoking the teams
I was informed that Mr Cunningham was missing.
He had left the part early in the day,
and it was evident that he had gone astray.
I felt less anxiety on the subject,
little doubting he would gain the camp.
I had the pain to learn on reaching the camp
that Mr Cunningham was still absent.

We at length encamped near a pond,
but poor Mr Cunningham, poor Mr Cunningham came not

After an almost sleepless night I rose early,
and could only relieve my anxiety by organising a search.
I set up a small stick with a piece of paper affixed to it
containing the words: Dear Mr Cunningham
My horse’s tracks will lead you back to the camp


And I learned that the two men sent back
had at length found Mr Cunningham’s track
into the country I had twice traversed in search of him.
In search of him.

They came to where his horse lay dead.
Had he killed the horse rather than the dog,
had we pursued our course down the Bogan
his life would have been saved.
They traced the continuation of his track
where many natives had been encamped.
They found a portion of coat; I could only hope
that Mr Cunningham might still be brought back.

And thus for the first time, I learned that Poor Cunningham
had really been murdered.
Murdered by the savages!

Wongadgery. Boreebomalie. Buremal. (x2)
They determined to destroy him,
striking him with their nulla-nulla,
speedily affecting their purpose.

We at length encamped near a pond,
but poor Mr Cunningham, poor Mr Cunningham came not.

I arrived at a place called Currandine.

I collected all the remains I could discover,
raised a small mound over them,
barked some of the nearest trees marking the spot.

We at length encamped near a pond
But poor Mr Cunningham, poor Mr Cunningham came not.
Mr Cunningham
Words from: 
 Three Expeditions into the Interior V1 by Thomas Mitchell 
EXPEDITION SENT TO EXPLORE THE COURSE OF THE RIVER DARLING, IN 1835.  Chapter 2.2, Mr Cunningham goes missing.
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One scenario: global malaria pandemic in a storm jungle
Dead acid ocean, acid rain - not a world I can live in
What sort of beasts will evolve in a world such as this?
I am a catastrophist

Acid ocean, acid rain
Burning through my skin again
Acid ocean, acid rain

Or imagine a world full of birds and splendour,
A world full of pleasure and laughter, no pain
No countries, no border, and no multi-nationals
No wars over god, class, resources or race
What fool would believe in a world such as this?

I am a catastrophist

Lashing rain and burning fire
Nothing like my heart’s desire
Lashing rain and burning fire

One scenario: global malaria pandemic in a storm jungle

Dead acid ocean, acid rain – not a world I can live in
What sort of beasts will evolve in a world such as this?
I am a catastrophist

Acid ocean, acid rain
Burning through my skin again
Acid ocean, acid rain
Catastrophist
2009 Sky News excerpt.



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Didn’t someone write a song about the ice-caps are melting
way back in 1968? Little Tony, a boy of 11
[Then] in the seminary learning you could lie
and you could still get to heaven.

So you can take your 23 thousand dollars to ride your bike
You can bet that’s something that the electorate doesn’t like
And you can cut expenditure, so long as it’s schools, health,
welfare, manufacturing and science
and spend more on spying and defence

Climate change is absolute ‘crap’
Sovereign borders, fiscal emergency
What happened to the urgency?
So here we are 12 months later and nobody cares
We’ve got our motor homes and shares

And Australia’s open for business
And no-one’s the suppository of all wisdom
And because you’re the king
You don’t give a shit about anything
Tony Abbott, you’re a sock-cutter
And you think you’re a pheasant-plucker, but you’re not
You’re a fire-trucker, you sock-cutter

Tony Abbott, you’re not my captain.
Ode to Tony

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this website has been put together by 10th Man and friends. It's a work in progress. Enjoy!
21 Aug 2013  
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10th Man makes music on Wiradyuri land. We pay our respects to Wiradyuri and other Aboriginal elders past, present and future. We acknowledge Aboriginal land (Australia) was never ceded. Always was, always will be Aboriginal land.
  • home
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    • Miscarriage of Justice
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