Another song about home (see also this and this and this), this time inspired by the fact that The Waifs are coming to Tassie later this year and playing a gig over in Franklin at the Palais.  This is nostalgia, with loyalty, to the tune of London Still.

July 2023

Wonder if you can see it in
Pictures from my phone
When I post them onto Facebook
When I talk about the rain.

There’s this colour in the hills here
I believe they call it “green”
If you’re used to Canberra’s droughts
This is one you’ve never seen

I’m in Geeveston still
I’m in Geeveston still
I’m in Geeveston still

I took a bus trip up to Hobart
An hour and a half
I bought some butter chicken
Tastes like water-flavoured chaff.

And I miss the so-called nightlife
Never thought you’d hear me say
Tonight I dream of Kingsleys
Roundabout, Belconnen Way

I’m in Geeveston still
I’m in Geeveston still
Yeah I’m in Geeveston still

You know it’s OK
I’m kinda settled here, I’d say
I think I can name my neighbours
I like to give a wave g’day

And if ever leave here —
But no, I’d be a dill.
I guess you’ll have to visit me or
Keep track on Facebook still
Oh yeah I guess you will
Cause I’m in Geeveston still

I’ll never call you “cobber”, no
I’ll never hate the Greens
But I feel more Taswegian
Than I expected in my teens

I wonder what I’m missing
But be frank, don’t think I care
I’d rather hear the silence…
And I’d rather breathe the air…

I’m in Geeveston still
I’m in Geeveston still
I’m in Geeveston still

Oh I’m in Geeveston still
Ta-ta-ta-Taswegian still
I’m in Geeveston