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Welcome to the universe, Miss Kitty.
Welcome to the eighth of July.
Welcome to your nose, your fingers and your toes.
Welcome to the big blue sky.
It’s such a lovely world to play a part in,
but follow this suggestion if you can:
Don’t accept a drink from Uncle Martin.
Uncle Martin’s a peculiar man.

Right now, you’re a pretty little baby;
you haven’t got the hang of your neck.
But if someday you should pine to lay it on the line,
try to keep yourself in check.
This monumental odyssey you’re starting
is thrilling and exotic and unique.
But don’t accept a drink from Uncle Martin,
or agree to mind a bag for Uncle Zeke.

Your life will be full of surprises,
but some things will always be true.
The Middle-East is always in crisis.
A change of sheets is always overdue.
And Mum and Dad love you forever;
take it as your rule of thumb.
They’ll love you through ev’ry endeavour,
no matter what a cocksnap you become.

So welcome to the universe, Miss Kitty.
I hope you like the lay of the land.
I hope your heart can be exuberant and free,
and Lord, I hope you understand
this crucial piece of wisdom I’m impartin’
(I know it’s not my place to intervene)
but don’t accept a drink from Uncle Martin,
especially once you’ve turned fourteen.
Especially once you’ve turned thirteen.

…Twelve.

I know why they call it the morning:
for every day I mourn for every day I mourn.
Once I’d have sworn on my calling -
now I can’t be sure what I’m swearing for.
I used to care too much
Declare myself insane
Now I’ve been there too much, and it’s a diff’rent kind of pain

Where every day’s a faded photocopy of the day before
A blurry facsimile stacked up in your drawer
I tell myself that I’m important to me
but I can’t be consoled
when I put myself on hold

I know it’s the curse of the city
There’s too much on the plate, so ev’ry plan must wait
And there’s nothing worse than self-pity
A whinger through and through when injuries are few
But I had my rosy dreams
That I chose to defer
Fridgefuls of frozen schemes, and now I wonder what they were

And every day’s a faded photocopy of the day before
A blurry facsimile tacked up on your door
I tell myself I’m moving up the queue towards a future I sold
When I put myself on hold

I can’t reignite
I feel drawn out and dry
Fluorescent light flickers to life but it’s quicker to die…

I’ll be with myself as soon as possible but in the meantime I’m cold
cos I put myself on hold

I must have missed my turn
When I was 17
Passed up a chance to learn what a romance would mean
And now I feel too old to find myself this blind
I’m a latecomer – just a bit behind.

That’s what I said to her
Back on the night we met
“I’m sure I’ll fall in love, it’s just I haven’t yet.
“I’ll need a patient soul to pull me up to pace;
“I’m a latecomer – help me find my place.”

I’m gonna do it hard
A little tough to start
To navigate the differences and habits of your heart
To make myself a man
You can depend upon
For when I should be catching up, I’m barely catching on

But ev’ry day I learn
Just a little more
And ev’ry day I fall a little further than before
It must be fate to wait to find a mate so sweet:
I’m a latecomer – show me to my seat.

You see them everywhere
The silhouettes of shame
Bumping into ev’rything, the bearers of the blame
They don’t know right from left
And I don’t know much more
Romantically remedial, I need to know the score…

I must have missed my turn
But I can turn again
Thought I was lying low when I was sleeping in
I woke up just in time to hear the final call:
I’m a latecomer
I’m a latecomer
I’m a latecomer – better than never at all.

There’s a tale I heard
Of an island man
Tough and undeterred, he said “Haven’t you heard?
This land – our land!”

“We belong”
That’s what the High Court said
So when you sing this song, you gotta sing it for Ed.
For Eddie.
Ready?

BAND: Ready!

Mabo!
Mabo!
Mabo!

For the Meriam people
It was very unequal
Was it totally legal? Oh no!

Mabo!
Mabo!
Mabo!

Native title
It’s alive and vital
Speak the truth and make it so!

And if we follow this philosophy
Demand a land beyond compare
Then girt by faith and generosity
We’ll all combine to redefine a beauty rich and rare
In joyful strains then let us sing…

ALL: Advance Australia…

Hang on a tic, just let me talk
‘Cos you can tell by the way I use my walk
I’m just a bloke, a normal bloke, and nothin’ more
I’ve got my home, I’ve got my health
I’ve got my lovely wife and kids,
I’ve got no tickets on myself
I’m just a bloke, an Aussie bloke, to the core.

So you know that I’d be grateful to the nation at large
If you thought it was appropriate to put me in charge.

Of the Mateship – anchors aweigh!
We’ve decided you’re invited to stay!
On the Mateship – welcome aboard!
We could find a better kind of accord, uh-huh-huh.

Well I can jibe, and I can tack
So let the skipper take the clipper to Gallipoli and back
I’ll be a bloke, an Aussie bloke, with Digger pride
We wouldn’t mix with other crews
We won’t consult with any cult promoting multiple views
We’ll just be blokes. Dinkum blokes. Bona fide.

And I’d look to the community defending the land
If you took the opportunity to give me command.

Of the Mateship – hoisting the sail!
Never throw a baby over the rail!
Of the Mateship – flying the flag!
You’ll be clamouring to carry a swag, uh-huh-huh.

Mates would die for a mate
Mates are worth their weight in gold
Mates can rely on a mate
So I’m told…

Now I’m a man, I’m not a boy
When they say “Aussie Aussie Aussie” I say “oy oy oy!”
Like any bloke, a rugged bloke, I’m pretty tough
It’s catching on, it’s all the rage
Why even now I look around and see no women on the stage
Only blokes – Aussie blokes!
(KIWI BAND MEMBER: [spoken] Hey – I’m a Kiwi!)
Close enough.

You could dwell upon tomorrow and the sorrow you feel
Or set a course for yesterday and give me the wheel.

Of the Mateship – rounding the buoy!
No political correctness ahoy!
On the Mateship, anchors aweigh!
We’ll decide if you’re invited to stay
On the Mateship…

GARETH EVANS:
Another morning in the PMC
We’ve got the latest on the CAD
It’s only four percent of GDP
But it’s causing little tremors at the NAB
You want your funding for the AME
We’ll have to sneak it past the ERC
And the PMO observers of the GNE are nervous
It’s another day of service in the ALP.

PAUL KEATING:
My land is burning with bureaucracy
Too scared to contemplate its worth
Inert and dreaming of democracy
Too struck by sun to get things done
At the arse end of the earth.

EVANS:
Another morning in the monarchy
We’ve got the model from the RAC
About as minimal as it can be
But you might have blown your chances for an OBE
They’re gonna try to pull the train off track
They’re lining up to fly the Union Jack
And the tyranny of distance and the path of least resistance
And you gave the Queen assistance when you goosed her back…

KEATING:
We have one golden opportunity
To see our brand new flag unfurled
To rise with shining eyes in unity
It’s hard to stand with heads in sand
At the arse end of the world

BOTH:
We can move this world
We can change this place
Shifting inch by inch
At a glacial pace
Take it step by step
Build it brick by brick
Important innovations
And delicate equations
I’m running out of patience, can we make this quick?

EVANS:
Another morning in the ACT
Remind Australia that we’re young and free
But every channel seems to disagree
With the possible exception of the ABC
We’re getting hammered by the tabloid press
We must be pissing Rupert off, I guess
‘Cos they’re calling us elitist and the polling is defeatist
So we hope that every street is watching SBS! Oh yes! Oh yes!

KEATING:
We hear the siren song of destiny
A call to rapturous rebirth
We dare to recognise our history
The future’s bright for black and white
At the arse end of the earth
What better place to make your base than the arse end of the earth?

I’ve been out there pacing
Bracing for defeat
Ready to be roasted
And I felt that demon heat
But I got lifted
When I thought that I would fall
Now this feels like the sweetest victory of all

Never felt too comfy
Up there on the top
I felt like Humpty Dumpty
And I was waiting for the drop
But I got lifted
I’m floating high above the wall
Now this feels like the sweetest victory of all

I thank my wife and son and daughters
My faithful supporters
You kept my team full of steam
I thank the people of the nation
For their validation
Keep on believing in the dream

You know that I’ve been wishin’
I had a second shot
Thanks to your decision
That’s exactly what I got
And I got lifted
Now I hear my country call

BAND: We want Paul! We want Paul!

Now this feels like the sweetest victory
Now it seems like y’all wanna stick to me
Now this feels like the sweetest victory of all!

GARETH EVANS:
Now you’ve made it to the top
And the Bodgie is dislodged
Say a prayer for him and look
At the punches that you took
At the bullets that you dodged

As you walk up to the door
As you slowly turn the key
You will walk out on a limb
Where the bell that tolls for him
Is the one that tolls for thee

My friend, the beginning is the end
From the entrance to the bow
Your time starts now
My friend, the beginning is the end
Even now it lurks behind that door…

PAUL KEATING:
Gareth, Gareth, tell me more.

EVANS:
There’s a spirit in the Lodge
Chills the marrow in your bones
And the ghostly voice you hear
It’ll fill you full of fear
Even more than Alan Jones

You can hear it every night
Hear it echo in the halls
It’s the company you keep
When Annita’s fast asleep
And from deep inside the walls it calls…

THE GHOST OF GOUGH WHITLAM:
My friend, the beginning is the end
So you think you know the way
Well may you say
My friend, the beginning is the end
So do not go gentle from that stage…
Maintain your rage!

WHITLAM AND EVANS:
Maintain your rage!

ALL
Maintain your rage!
Maintain your rage!
Maintain your rage!

And now
We’re living in a great creative nation
Yet we wait somehow
The battle for the country can’t be won
Until we understand
How well we know our land
How much we hide our shame
Or dare to speak its name.

And here
We wander though the midst of this
And wish that it would disappear
As if it’s only locally created
Insulated pain
A shadow and a stain
A hurt we can’t reveal
A cut too deep to heal.

But oh, I know we can succeed
We can’t afford to fail
And justice must prevail
And oh, I’m sure it will indeed
With everything we share
We know it’s only fair.

To begin
I think we oughta show contrition, recognition of our sin
And wonder how we had the gall
To think that it was all OK
And never thought to say
“How angry would I be if this were done to me?”

But oh, I know we can succeed
We can’t afford to fail
And justice must prevail
And oh, I’m sure it will indeed
With everything we share
We know it’s only fair… Oh yeah!