Came from the hills of Livadia
Ice capped peaks and eagle's spire
Olive groves and a bowl of stew
You dance all night with the kin you never knew
Australia seemed like a land of dreams
Frigidaires and two TVs
Process work won't pay the bills
Kids need shoes, takes six weeks of saving
And the debt collector haunts your sleep
Like a shadow at your heels
We can offer tea and sympathy
But can't know how it feels
Take your blues to the bottle every Friday night
And drink them all away
Take world in your hands when the weekend comes
Tomorrow's another day...
Maria, sweet Maria
The blinds are torn and the door's ajar
A sneaking draught, it chills your bones
Maria, you're so far from home
Foreman leers as he walks by
Ugly dial and furtive eyes
You refuse again today
And what will come, there's no way of saying
They rob you blind, they suck you dry
You sell your life, they sell you lies
Wogs and sprogs you hear them say
When you meet them face to face
They turn away...
And the chrome glints hard in the used car yards
And the semis whine at night
Chequered dreams of sanctuary
To the flicker of a neon light
Husband's face is pocked and lined
Pride is shattered and his rage is blind
Out of work, short of hope
You try to talk but he just won't understand
Maria, sweet Maria
The blinds are torn and the door's ajar
A sneaking draught, it chills your bones
Maria, you're so far from home
And you sing your song alone.
I had an old mandolin and had no idea how to play it until I flailed around and this song came out. Marie was actually French. I met her when I worked at a foundry in Kilburn and I admit, somewhat shamefully now, that I got to know her because I fancied her ravishing daughter. To give an added layer to the relevant verse, so did the foreman. -MA
Ice capped peaks and eagle's spire
Olive groves and a bowl of stew
You dance all night with the kin you never knew
Australia seemed like a land of dreams
Frigidaires and two TVs
Process work won't pay the bills
Kids need shoes, takes six weeks of saving
And the debt collector haunts your sleep
Like a shadow at your heels
We can offer tea and sympathy
But can't know how it feels
Take your blues to the bottle every Friday night
And drink them all away
Take world in your hands when the weekend comes
Tomorrow's another day...
Maria, sweet Maria
The blinds are torn and the door's ajar
A sneaking draught, it chills your bones
Maria, you're so far from home
Foreman leers as he walks by
Ugly dial and furtive eyes
You refuse again today
And what will come, there's no way of saying
They rob you blind, they suck you dry
You sell your life, they sell you lies
Wogs and sprogs you hear them say
When you meet them face to face
They turn away...
And the chrome glints hard in the used car yards
And the semis whine at night
Chequered dreams of sanctuary
To the flicker of a neon light
Husband's face is pocked and lined
Pride is shattered and his rage is blind
Out of work, short of hope
You try to talk but he just won't understand
Maria, sweet Maria
The blinds are torn and the door's ajar
A sneaking draught, it chills your bones
Maria, you're so far from home
And you sing your song alone.
I had an old mandolin and had no idea how to play it until I flailed around and this song came out. Marie was actually French. I met her when I worked at a foundry in Kilburn and I admit, somewhat shamefully now, that I got to know her because I fancied her ravishing daughter. To give an added layer to the relevant verse, so did the foreman. -MA