In regards to the meaning of this song:
Before a live performance on the EP Five Stories Falling, Geoff states “It’s about the last time I went to visit my grandmother in Columbus, and I saw that she was dying and it was the last time I was going to see her. It is about realizing how young you are, but how quickly you can go.”
That’s the thing about Geoff and his sublime poetry, you think it’s about one thing, but really it’s about something entirely different. But the lyrics are still universal and omnipresent, ubiquitous, even. So relatable. That’s one thing I love about this band. I also love their live performances, raw energy and Geoff’s beautiful, imperfectly perfect vocals. His voice soothes my aching soul.
There’s an Aussie bloke and he’s everybody’s chum
He’s been around a hundred years bringing happiness and fun
But now it’s time to ask ourselves is there a reason why
Why won’t Rolf Harris just fuck off and die?
[chorus]
Oh! Why won’t Rolf Harris just fuck off and die?
If you know then tell me coz I don’t know why
We’ve had enough of wobble boards and Jake the fucking peg
He must be a hundred and one by now why ain’t the fucker dead?
You can travel right around the world, no matter where you go
The four-eyed little bastard’s there with another pissy show
He’s got stupid bloody glasses and silly bloody hair
And the thing I hate about him most, he’s every-fucking where
With his Buddy Holly glasses and ridiculous wobble board
I’ve watched for five hundred years and now I’m fucking bored
With his splashing paint around the joint, three bloody legs
To put up with you Rolf, you prick; I need to drink three kegs
[chorus]
One good thing about you Rolf, when your voice gets hoarse and rough
You can still rub painted pictures and all that fucking stuff
Yes you’re better than Van Gogh, that’s what I bloody said
But instead of lopping just one ear cut off your fucking head
And you’re always going, humph, huh, humph, huh, humph, huh
You make me fucking sick
Why don’t you pull your foreskin over your head and vanish down your dick
[chorus]
Oh! You’re always hopping round the stage with that third fucking leg
Singing about a bloke named Jake who’s got an extra leg
I can really help you Rolf, though I’m not one to stop
But I’d like to get my chainsaw out and cut the fucker off
There’s a stairway to heaven you turned into a hit
You should just climb the stairs you aggravating little shit
There’s two little boys with only one fucking horse
And I’ll tie that kangaroo down on the barbeque of course
[chorus]
Led Zeppelin, Freddy Mercury and Mick Jagger too are all thinking
Holy fuck what are we going to do?
His wobble board gets on our nerves he’s really bloody weird and he looks like Buddy Holly with a great big fucking beard!
He’s been around a hundred years bringing happiness and fun
But now it’s time to ask ourselves is there a reason why
Why won’t Rolf Harris just fuck off and die?
[chorus]
Oh! Why won’t Rolf Harris just fuck off and die?
If you know then tell me coz I don’t know why
We’ve had enough of wobble boards and Jake the fucking peg
He must be a hundred and one by now why ain’t the fucker dead?
You can travel right around the world, no matter where you go
The four-eyed little bastard’s there with another pissy show
He’s got stupid bloody glasses and silly bloody hair
And the thing I hate about him most, he’s every-fucking where
With his Buddy Holly glasses and ridiculous wobble board
I’ve watched for five hundred years and now I’m fucking bored
With his splashing paint around the joint, three bloody legs
To put up with you Rolf, you prick; I need to drink three kegs
[chorus]
One good thing about you Rolf, when your voice gets hoarse and rough
You can still rub painted pictures and all that fucking stuff
Yes you’re better than Van Gogh, that’s what I bloody said
But instead of lopping just one ear cut off your fucking head
And you’re always going, humph, huh, humph, huh, humph, huh
You make me fucking sick
Why don’t you pull your foreskin over your head and vanish down your dick
[chorus]
Oh! You’re always hopping round the stage with that third fucking leg
Singing about a bloke named Jake who’s got an extra leg
I can really help you Rolf, though I’m not one to stop
But I’d like to get my chainsaw out and cut the fucker off
There’s a stairway to heaven you turned into a hit
You should just climb the stairs you aggravating little shit
There’s two little boys with only one fucking horse
And I’ll tie that kangaroo down on the barbeque of course
[chorus]
Led Zeppelin, Freddy Mercury and Mick Jagger too are all thinking
Holy fuck what are we going to do?
His wobble board gets on our nerves he’s really bloody weird and he looks like Buddy Holly with a great big fucking beard!
Lyrics submitted by TheDirge
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