my family came, my family came, from kastellorizo
been living in the land of oz, for eighty years or so
they called them refs they called them wogs, they called them so and so’s
but they survived, the racist jibes, for eighty years you know.
now my papou, he’s ninety-two, he watched the family grow
it grew and grew, and grew and grew,
the greeks like sex you know.
my family came, the cazzies came, from kastellorizo
been living in, the land of oz, for eighty years or so.
from fish and chips, and steak and eggs,
they built their family homes
on good australian soil they built, they helped australia grow
and in their homes, their souvenirs, from kastellorizo
the hallowed map, the harbour view, the painted plates on show
and photographs, old photographs, that told a tale of woe
of poverty, and tyranny, under the bed they go!
my family came, the cazzies came, from kastellorizo
been living with, the memories, for eighty years or so.
their children grew, they went to school, they learnt the aussie ways
they changed their clothes, they changed their talk, they even changed their names
but in the house, the parents taught,
that cazzies they will stay
a cazzie born, a cazzie be, until their dying day
‘cos everything that’s greek is good,
it’s always been that way
and cazzies are, the best of all, my old yiayia would say.
my family came, the cazzies came, from kastellorizo
been living in, a time-warp zone, for eighty years or so.
at weddings and, at christenings, they’d sing the cazzie songs
we did the cazzie dances, and we all would sing along
and all the stories, you would hear, about this grecian isle
would put it on, a pedestal, a faultless pure lifestyle
but reality, as time goes by, gets twisted, warped and changed
and the longer, they had been here, the bigger the myth became.
my family came, the cazzies came, from kastellorizo
been living in, the past too long, for eighty years or so.
the myth of kastellorizo, so good, so greek, so great
to live by myth, in a changing world, simply does not equate
‘cos no man can, an island be, the proverb wisely states
and progress never comes to those, to those who sit and wait
and so we see, the culture clash, worship of myth creates
you can’t live in, another time, another mental state.
my family came, my family stayed, in kastellorizo
been living with the myth too long, for eighty years or so
the cazzies came, the cazzies stayed, in kastellorizo
they left reality behind, some eighty years ago!
