DAVE’S AUSTRALIA DAY ADVENT JUKEBOX #8

SURRY HILLS BOOGALOO

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

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