DAVE’S AUSTRALIA DAY ADVENT JUKEBOX #8
Wrote this one in about 1988 after a stint down the road from the Hopetoun Hotel where Leopard was working. A low time for me as I felt no record companies were interested in signing me, and even if they did no stations would play the songs, so did this album myself with help in pre-planning and writing from Greg Macainsh and then Martin Cilia doing a maginficent job programming the whole album and producing as well as co-writing. In the end an album I’m very proud of. This song one of the best lyrically I’ve ever done, inspired by Cole Porter. (hit title above for the video clip and if you’ve not signed up to my You Tube channel please do)
SURRY HILLS BOOGALOO
You can make like an Eskimo and live in an igloo
Walk nude in Chicago when December snows are due
Be dressed for Key Largo on the tip of old K2
But you haven’t felt a chill till you’ve done the Surry Hills Boogaloo
You can scoff cold cray at a Toorak barbecue
Quaff Chardonnay with the gays of Woolloomooloo
Have it off in the hay with the gal from Kalamazoo
But you haven’t done nothin’ till you’ve done the Surry Hills Boogaloo
Boogaloo Boogaloo x 2
You can traverse all London from the depths of the Bakerloo
Converse with sponges on the floor of the Arafu
You can plunge like futures in a failed Wall Street coup
But you haven’t hit rock bottom till you’ve done the Surry Hills Boogaloo
Boogaloo Boogaloo x 3
Chew you up and it’ll spit you out
It don’t care what you’re about (Surry Hills don’t care)
Kiss my arse and lick my shoes you’re Boogalooed
You could be the gum on the heel of Neil Armstrong’s shoe
You can heel to windward at the helm of Australia 2
And you could wind the watch that timed what Lindburgh flew
But you ain’t history till you’ve done the Surry Hills Boogaloo
No you ain’t history till you’ve done the Surry Hills Boogaloo
Instrumental break 16 bars
Chew you up and it’ll spit you out
It don’t care what you’re about (Surry Hills don’t care)
Kiss my arse and lick my shoes you’re Boogalooed
Chew you up and it’ll spit you out
It don’t care what you’re about (Surry Hills don’t care)
Kiss my arse and lick my shoes you’re Boogalooed
When you’re down in Surry Hills
And you feel that Surry chill there’s nothing you can do but Boogaloo
Boogaloo Boogaloo x 3
