CHORUS

And it’s who, what, where the fuck am I, today?

I’ve taken a wrong turn in life and I can’t afford delays,

There’s a picture in my mind, maybe I’m chasing the sublime

It’s a faded green road sign that just says: MAZE.

Down on the Princes Highway, near Broughton Village fair,

There’s a true blue bloody Babylon you’d not expect be there,

Many men seek gold and riches or the comfort of quiet praise

But John Grant ain’t many men and so he planted Grantie’s Maze.

 

CHORUS

 

Now the first trees in the ground in ’85 were found to die

But that’s alright, just plant two thousand more, it’s worth a second try,

And Grantie’s Maze grew tall and hale for twenty years, while John made plays

In real estate, chasing both capital and his tourism DA’s.

 

CHORUS

 

For John was on a mission that surpassed mere greenery,

“It’s the Elysium of Foxgrounds I will build, for don’t you see

“They had me fighting my own brothers in that Viet jungle rain,

“If I bring the whole world joy we won’t make that mistake again.”

 

CHORUS

 

So in the new millennium, seeking peace, John to war,

From his Saigon days to Kiama Shire Council in ’04,

Who’d ever think you’d need approval for a child’s archery range,

Or a three-story-tall playground? Sure this safety shit is strange!

 

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Ten million dollars later in infrastructure and legal fees,

Installing fifteen park attractions, breezing past “no build” decrees,

A man who’d never hedged his bets and landed on the law’s wrong side,

Charging forth, John filed in ’16 to install twenty more rides.

 

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Now world peace ain’t on the cards and so I’m sad to say it’s true,

That the mid-South Coast ain’t bold enough to host that Xanadu,

Courts have ruled that half the complex be torn down without delay,

But John Grant said “bugger that” and you can run the maze today.

 

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