by Whole Peeled

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Album recorded at Strawberry Sound, Dunedin, May-August 1996. Engineered by Nic Leeden. Mastered by Jeremy Belcher at Megalomedia Ltd, Dunedin.


released October 1, 1996

Mark Joyce - Percussion
Fraser Campbell - Bass
Tarek Bazley - Fiddle, guitar, vocals
Sam Auger - Guitar, vocals, mandolin, bouzouki
Warwick Burton, Guitar, vocals, clarinet, banjo, didge

Also featuring:
Ricki Gooch - Congas - South Pacific Blues
Craig Child - Flugel Horn - The Lament for Barney Flanagan
Mike Moroney - Tambourine - Fine Day and Julia
Nic Leeden - Guitar on Illinois Corn Song, Backing vocals on Julia
String quartet on Fine Day - arranged by Tarek Bazley. Featuring Katie Atkinson, Helen Saunders, Chris Usher, Tarek Bazley. Hand print by Hannah Fortune.



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Whole Peeled Dunedin, New Zealand

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Track Name: Julia
Julia works on the checkout (chicken soap and bean sprouts) Julia knows every special on today
Julia I must confess you're looking good in your new world dress, Julia whatever the price I'll pay...

Cos I'm tired of waiting in this line
Julia check me out I'm in your check out line
I don't want a discount, I'll pay by EFTPOS
Julia, Julia, when do you get off?

Julia's on the minimum wage
She gets paid peanuts at her age
Julia spends it all on American clothes
I her purse there's a photograph
Of a heart throb in her class
Some day it'll be me, I suppose

Cos I'm tired of waiting in this line
You're checkin everybody out, look at me I'm fine
I don't want your body
I just want your name tag
Julia, Julia, what's in your new world bag?

Julia lives with her parents, lives a life of suspense
What's going to happen next on Shortland street
Working like a human slave
Can't dig this supermarket grave
Julia's going to throw it all in for me

Cos she's tired of working in the line
Checking cheque IDs, Selling baked beans and wine
She doesn't want a miracle, just wants what she's worth
Julia, Julia, it won't come on this earth
Track Name: The Lament for Barney Flanagan
Lament for Barney Flanagan


Flanagan got up on a Saturday morning,
Pulled on his pants while the coffee was warming;
He didn't remember the doctor's warning,
"Your heart's too big, Mr. Flanagan."

Barney Flanagan, sprung like a frog
From a wet root in an Irish bog -
May his soul escape from the tooth of the dog!
God have mercy on Flanagan.

Barney Flanagan R.I.P.
Rode to his grave on Hennessy's
Like a bottle-cork boat in the Irish Sea.
The bell-boy rings for Flanagan.

Barney Flanagan, ripe for a coffin,
Eighteen stone and brandy-rotten,
Patted the housemaid's velvet bottom -
"Oh, is it you, Mr. Flanagan?"

The sky was bright as a new milk token.
Bill the Bookie and Shellshock Hogan
Waited outside for the pub to open -
"Good day, Mr. Flanagan."

At noon he was drinking in the lounge bar corner
With a sergeant of police and a racehorse owner
When the Angel of Death looked over his shoulder -
"Could you spare a moment, Flanagan?"

Oh the deck was cut; the bets were laid;
But the very last card that Barney played
Was the Deadman's Trump, the bullet of Spades -
"Would you like more air, Mr. Flanagan?"

The priest came running but the priest came late
For Barney was banging at the Pearly Gate.
St Peter said, "Quiet! You'll have to wait
For a hundred masses, Flanagan."

The regular boys and the loud accountants
Left their nips and their seven-ounces
As chickens fly when the buzzard pounces -
"Have you heard about old Flanagan?"

Cold in the parlour Flanagan lay
Like a bride at the end of her marriage day.
The Waterside Workers' Band will play
A brass goodbye to Flanagan.

While publicans drink their profits still.
While lawyers flock to be in at the kill,
While Aussie barmen milk the till
We will remember Flanagan.

For Barney had a send-off and no mistake.
He died like a man for his country's sake;
And the Governor-General came to his wake.
Drink again to Flanagan!

Despise not, O Lord, the work of Thine own hands
And let light perpetual shine upon him.

James K. Baxter