Some songwriters have submitted lyrics only.
Ashley Rose is an Australian songwriter:
Thank God and the Love of St George
There’s a stench of indifference that hangs in the air
as the free world is battered and torn.
The nine-thirty news aired a special report
and the Senate is being recalled.
The dream of complacency must be defended
while the cautions are mouthed and ignored
and we’re half way to heaven and half way to hell
so thank God and the love of St George.
The words we don’t say never get in the way
of the warmth of the chill winds of change.
The vapid obsession with decency’s gone
and the holy war’s all gone deranged.
The self-righteous still stands by the altar
while the forces of darkness converge
forsaking the faith of our fathers
we thank God and the love of St George
Invoking the threats from within us,
a sad reflection of the places we’ve been,
with a lemming-like rush to the cliffs of injustice
we discard what we all once believed.
Abandon all hope when you enter inside,
you never had hope there to grieve.
Resistance is futile, the crusade has ended,
Just turn out the lights when you leave.
But we’ll fight what we don’t find familiar,
standing safe in the future we’ve forged,
and it’s half way to heaven and half way to hell,
so thank God and the love of St George.
We’re half way to heaven and half way to hell
so thank God and the love of St George
© 2007 Ashley Rose
Mr Cheney's dream
A morphine addled darkness covered Baghdad through to Andrews
In a flash of white the sirens fled down Georgia Avenue
The liberator's welcome
wasn't all that we had hope for
The victory wreaths that waited,
less impressive than they seemed.
An olive branch from the wrong end
of an AK-47
Blew me and Jake a one-way pass
out of Mr. Cheney's dream.
And they prayed for me at Walter Reed
But Jake he won't grow older
the curtain fell before the final scene
In God we trust. Thank God it wasn't me
Trade a purple heart for a walk on part
There in Mr. Cheney's dream.
Poor boys have to take a chance and me and Jake we were buddies
When we left Oklahoma we had stars that were in our eyes
From Fort Sill to Fallujah
hell the Chinooks drowned the mortar
The seed of passion planted
made it hard to not believe
but shattered bones, and severed limbs
are all smiling in the mirror
Just a number not a soldier
after Mr. Cheney's dream.
And they prayed for me at Walter Reed
No tears for the fallen soldier
the curtain fell before that final scene
In God we trust. Why couldn't it be me?
Just a number not a soldier
here in Mr. Cheney's dream.
© 2007 Ashley Rose
Graeme Orr is a Scottish songwriter. Here are some of his lyrics:
Queen Mum Requiem
This song has a tune. It needs something good and
imperialist and pompous, sort of Elgar Last Night of the Proms. It also
is a good pub song, with movements and royal waves!
Chorus
She was Britain's favourite granny
With a mad jug-eared grandson
She rode the royal buggy
And she lived to a hundred and one.
Bowes-Lyon fought the Germans
She saw us through the Blitz
She went dahn to the owl' East End
And flashed those Windsor...teeth.
Chorus
Bowes-Lyon was born in Scotland
With a castle up in Crathie
She might have had some right-wing views
But she never was a Nathzi.
Chorus
Bowes-Lyon liked her G and T
She was partial to a tipple
She'd often end up legless
But she never was a cripple.
Chorus
Rummy and Condy and Bushy and Blair
Tune: Bonnie Dundee
Chorus
We've buggered Iraq, now let's fuck up Iran
We jumped in his spider-hole, captured Saddam
We've looted the oil, told Iraqis they're "free"
Then it's off to New York in the bloody Humvee!
O, we're the Fab Foursome who now rule the world
From pole to equator, Old Glory's unfurled
It's oil that cements us, so Arabs beware
Of Rummy and Condy and Bushy and Blair.
We're fresh from the conquest: now hear us declare
The spoils for the victors - for others, no share
The global resources will soon be laid bare
For Rummy and Condy and Bushy and Blair.
We'll flatten the mountains to smoke out Bin Laden
We're not sure he's there, but we know he's a bad 'un
We taught him to bomb, but his tactics ain't fair
Say Rummy and Condy and Bushy and Blair.
We'll bulldoze Baghdad and we'll hang Babylon
The gorge-feast of butchery rolls on and on
We haven't killed Saddam, but gave him a scare
Say Rummy and Condy and Bushy and Blair.
But in the end-game, there is one bigger player
A typhoon has sprung up, and flattened Times Square
For God is far greater (as you are aware)
Than Rummy and Condy and Bushy and Blair.
Republican National Anthem for Australia
This tries to reflect Oz's turning its back on Britannia and embracing the Californian
hedonistic dream, while shitting on the natives and speaking in a dire
version of Estuary English). A good, jaw-jutting, patriotic and simple,
undemanding tune is what is called for here. Maybe Rupe the Poop, press
magnate, could come up with something.
Say Hilloy to the Lend of the Blend! say Hilloy to the Lend of the Blend!
It's cool for koalas and for kangaroo
For dingoes and drongos, so why not for you?
Say Hilloy to the Lend of the Blend!
Say G'Day to the Lend of the Blind! say G'Day to the Lend of the Blind!
America ordered us, go West young Men
Beyond Kellyfornia what was the plen?
Say G'Day to the Lend of the Blind!
Say Yo! to the Lend of the Blond! Say Yo! to the Lend of the Blond!
Wombats and Wallabies, they're both pure Oz
And bleck native Abboys - if they keep their paws
Off the wealth of the Lend of the Blond!
