Many years ago I went busking in Paris with a friend called Harry Powell and a girl I was seeing at the time, whom we shall call Marie-Antoinette. Marie-Antoinette had a friend called Ed, a man who was rich beyond your wildest imaginings, and Ed was madly in love with Marie-Antoinette, so much so that when he heard we were going to France, even though he knew we were only going for a week, and even though he knew I was going out with her, he said 'oh, I'll fly out and join you'.
And he did...
lyrics
Here we are in gay Paris
Harry Marie-Antoinette and me
And for the moment I'm her king
Just while she waits for the real thing
And in the rain Place Pompidou
Harry and me we sing our songs
To a rampant crowd of one or two
When who but who should chance along
It's Ed, Ed is at the Ritz
With his perfect smile and his chiselled lips
Ed, Ed is at the Ritz
With his perfect shoulders and their golden chips
But we, ah we, we are much too poor
We spend our nights Hotel Belfort
We spend our days with one guitar
Between ourselves, between each bar
While in the Cafe des Artistes
Ed and Marie-Antoinette
Are talking Klimt and Toulouse Lautrec
And Monet's Lilies and Rodin's Kiss
But we are much too thick for that
We just sing ourselves as hoarse as hell
Harry sings Roy Orbison
And me, well I sing Jacky Brel
But Ed is singing songs of love
Strumming on his credit card
I'd like to sing those songs as well
But Dad's fucked off and times are hard
But not for Ed, Ed is at the Ritz
Drinking champagne and eating caviar
Ed, Ed is at the Ritz
Drinking beaujolais and eating steak tartare
But we, ah we, we are much too poor
We spend our nights Hotel Belfort
We spend our days with one guitar
Between ourselves, between each bar
While in the Cafe des Poetes
Ed and Marie-Antoinette
Are talking Keats and Baudelaire
And such elan and quelle finesse
But we are much too proud for that
We just sing ourselves as hoarse as hell
Harry sings his Unconscious Mind
And me, well I sing Jacky Brel
But Ed is singing songs of love
Strumming on his credit card
I'd like to sing those songs as well
But Dad's fucked off and times are hard
But not for Ed, Ed is at the Ritz
With it's golden taps and it's marble stairs
Ed, Ed is at the Ritz
With his mobile phone and his stocks and shares
But we, ah we, we are much too poor
We spend our nights Hotel Belfort
We spend our days with one guitar
Between ourselves, between each bar
While in the Cafe des Amoureux
Ed and Marie-Antoinette
Are talking love and holding hands
And dreaming nights of untold bliss
But we are much too shy for that
We just sing ourselves as hoarse as hell
Harry sings Cosi Fan Tutti
And me, I'm still singing Jacky Brel
But Ed is singing songs of love
About how much he's getting hard
Now Marie-Antoinette has got
Her lips stuck round his credit card
For we, ah we, we are much too poor
We spend our nights Hotel Belfort
And times are hard and life's a bitch
Now Ed and Marie-Antoinette
Are staying at the Ritz
A hushed and low-lit EP from this Melbourne musician, where dreamlike melodies drift across a bed of tender guitar. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 19, 2023
