Stacy had a disease that no doctor could describe
She had no clothes on when she was born she had none on when she died
Uncle Patrick was a veteran of the Great North War
He came over Stacy’s house, Stacy said ‘What did you come over here for?’
Patrick said ‘the priest has died, haven’t you heard?’
‘The procession starts tomorrow, I reckon the only audience will be the birds…
…because its coming out all over town, every little evil deed
from the butcher to the barber shop that man was a bad seed.’
‘Oh God, that’s terrible’, said Stacy (she was being sarcastic)
She looked out the window, feeling fantastic

Sunrise on Main Street, its deserted except for Tim
The full-time scab, you could make a living off beggin’ back then
Stacy mosies on down the road she’s feelin’ confident, she’s feeling cautious
What she saw next would have made anybody else completely nauseous
She just smiled and three fresh bodies dumped in a ditch
The vermin had come for them, the crows would be next
She stared down at their faces, like a mother does a new born child
She recognised them: the altar boys
She got a kick out of their innocence being defiled

Stacy ran grinning all the way to her mother’s home
The cattle paid no attention, their eyes like stones
She broke in like a madman, eye’s wide, hair wild
Her mother wondered how she’d given birth to such a child
Dad walks in, wipes his pants
Stacy claims to be the victim of strange circumstance
She keeps up ravin’, about the ways of men
And then she threatened to go out beside the lake an’ jump in
Mum says, ‘Sit down Stacy, let’s have a chat’
Stacy says ‘There’s nothin’ I’d prefer less than doin’ that’

Enter Uncle Patrick, he walks right in
With a bright red nose and a beard on his chin
Patrick said to Stacy ‘There’s a warrant out for your arrest’
Stacy’s heart beat slow behind her ribs, inside her chest
She gets up from her kitchen chair, walks toward the bench
Pulls out a knife from there and slits her mother’s neck
Now Father had not panicked in the flood of ‘74
He did not panic now, he stood still on the floor
And Stacy stood there starin’ she was feelin’ kinda bored
Uncle Patrick tried to keep quiet as he made for the door
Patrick made a run for it- you couldn’t say surprise
In the time that it took Stacy to throw a vase between his eyes
Patrick on the porch, bleedin from the skull
Stacy wondrin’ when murder had become so lifeless and dull

Dad’s face was sad and for a sec Stacy did not move
The moment was worthy to be painted and hung inside the Louvre
Stacy hurled abuse across the room but it did not stick
So she took out her father’s ankles with one sweeping kick
She slapped his face, as though he was her bitch
His response was less dramatic than if he’d had an itch
Stacy lost her shit at this she started stabbin’ him in the chest
Then she jumped up and down on his ribcage like a boot stomps a birds nest
Walked outside cut off a washing line wire thread it through his nose til it came out his mouth
Then she pulled on both ends and pried his jaw completely out 

They found Stacy’s body in a lake not far from her home
She was floating there, facedown amongst the foam
Stacy had a disease that no doctor could describe
She had no clothes on when she was born, she had none on when she died

Stacy

Songlasses

Hallelujah

Beloved One

Psalm 139

Come, Let Us Sing for Joy to the Lord

Honeymoon in Nepal

Gideon's Bible

Cry Baby

John Tennyson - vocals and acoustic
Daniel Canales - organ and background vocals
Hadi Ansell - bass
Lyall Moloney - production
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