Home Page  








 
 

> Single: On Every Anzac Day & Anzac Biscuits
> Behind the Lines
> Lawson
> Gelignite Jack

> Etched In Blue 1987

> Looby Loo 1989
> True Believers 1993


On Every Anzac Day extended mix and radio mix
Anzac Biscuits

AVAILABLE TO BUY NOW FROM SONGLAND RECORDS

© John Schumann/Universal Music Publishing.
All rights reserved.

Produced by Hugh McDonald
with John Schumann.

Recorded at Hugh McDonald Studios,
Kew, Victoria.

Special Guests:
“On Every Anzac Day” – Rob Hirst (drums), Shane Howard (vocals).
“Anzac Biscuits” – Tony Floyd (drums).

The Vagabond Crew:

John Schumann, Hugh McDonald, Mal Logan, Denis Surmon, Alex Black,
Enrico Morena, Kat Kraus, Mark Kraus (audio tech).
Scot McCann (cinematographer)

The song, “Anzac Biscuits”, was commissioned by the SA Public Primary Schools’
Music Society for performance in the SA Public Primary School Music Festival,
in 2015, the year of the Centenary of Anzac.

The song is based on the book “Anzac Biscuits” by Phil Cummings,
published by Scholastic Australia.

All artist royalties from the sale of this CD and downloads go to Trojans Trek.

AVAILABLE TO BUY NOW FROM SONGLAND RECORDS
Email Brian 'Frog" Harris to place your order.

Frog & John
Brian "Frog" Harris & John Schumann 2015

Lyrics

On Every Anzac Day © John Schumann (Universal Music Publishing)

Ghosts and memories are loitering still in the corridors of time
There’s sorrow, smoke and stories in the barracks of my mind
I’m with him still in the trenches, I can see his dark, brown eyes
and his courage gave me courage when I was sure we were going to die
I asked him once why he volunteered for that hellhole far away
To fight for someone else’s king and the land they took away
He said “One invading mob’s too many” and then he walked away
And I lost him in the crowds waving flags on the side of the road
– like every Anzac Day.

From Murray Bridge and Mundrabilla from Naracoorte and Perth
First Australian station hands, there were shearers, gangers, clerks ...
And there was no black, there was no white, just a dirty khaki brown
And on our upturned slouch hat brims, we all wore the “Rising Sun”
Soldiers, brothers, all Australians, we had no time for race
When the bullets are whining past your head, you’re all just shades of grey.
He kept his medals in their box in a drawer – he kept them well tucked them away
But he’d pull them out and put them on and put them back again
– on every Anzac Day.

Armienteres and Flanders, Tarin Kowt and Salamau-Lae
Amiens and Morotai, Long Tan, Dispersal Bay
Somalia, Crete and Kapyong, Iraq, and the Solomons
Paschendaele, Maprik and Tarakan – they were there
– the first Australians.

And when the show was over and we made it back to Australia’s shores
From Pozieres and Herleville Wood, Benghazi and Fremicourt
We drifted back into our lives, and we all tried to hide the scars
Of the tears and fears and terrors that still tracked us down the years
He tried to join the RSL but the bastards wouldn’t let him in
They didn’t see a soldier, just a first Australian.

And I wonder what it was that we fought for and what it was we gave away
There’s reconciliation still to come
– on every Anzac Day.

So when the sun sets in the evening, when the dawn lights up the sky
We remember those first Australians, who joined and fought and died
From the missions, bush and station country, the towns and Torres Straits
We remember the fighting First Australians – now
– and on every Anzac Day.

 

Anzac Biscuits © John Schumann (Universal Music Publishing)

So can you hear me, darling girls, above the cannon’s roar?
And if you could I know you would deliver me from this war.

The sky above is broken and the stars are hard and cold
The shells are screaming overhead, I’m crouching in a hole
I’ve seen tremendous courage, I’ve seen grown men crying tears
The terrifying prospect is this war could last for years
The rain cuts like a cross-cut saw, the wind cuts like a knife
I miss my darling daughter and I miss my darling wife.

So make me Anzac biscuits and make them sweet and gold
And bake them in our oven over glowing redgum coals
And let them cool, and wrap them tight and put them in a tin
They’ll find me in a trench somewhere – but God alone knows when.

The pink Australian light of evening faded from the land
The soldier’s darling wife took their daughter by the hand
“We’ll make Dad Anzac biscuits, he likes them sweet and strong
It’s been almost a year since our courageous soldier’s gone
We’ll wrap them up with all our love and send them with a prayer
That they will find him safe and sound – somewhere over there.

So they made him Anzac biscuits and they made them sweet and gold
And they baked them in their oven over glowing red gum coals
And they let them cool and they wrapped them tight and they sent them with a prayer
And they found him living in a trench – somewhere over there.

And the rolled oats fell like snow-flakes fell 10,000 miles away
And pots and pans were rattling like machine guns on the plain
And the butter felt like gun grease and the treacle stuck like mud
And like a battle, smoke and fire, baked the coconut.

The sky above is broken and the stars are hard and cold
The shells are screaming overhead, I’m crouching in a hole
I’ve seen tremendous courage, I’ve seen grown men cry in shame
The terrifying prospect is I’ll never be the same
The rain cuts like a cross-cut saw, the wind cuts like a knife
I miss my darling daughter and I miss my darling wife.