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Hiked up to Sydney in the week before Christmas |
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It was thirty eight degrees in the shade |
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Bought a second-hand Morris for a cheap two twenty |
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And drove it down to Adelaide |
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She boiled for an hour twenty miles out of Euston |
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I thought the heat would never end |
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But I knew I'd be home for Christmas with my Sandy |
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And a few extra dollars to spend |
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I drove it to the buyer just as fast as I could go |
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I was talking to his teenage son |
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I sure hope it lasted for the poor little bastard |
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At least until he'd had some fun |
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I caught a taxi homeward with great anticipation |
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Thinkin' all you have to do is try |
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There was a note propped up against the dressing table mirror |
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Dear Jimmy, it's over, goodbye |
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Home and broken hearted, I've been pasted to the telephone |
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Boxing day break was wasted sitting home on my own |
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The beer we bought for Christmas ran dry this afternoon |
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And on the radio it's New Year's Eve |
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What a low down time of the year to pack your luggage and leave |
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Went to a party, tried to drink myself happy |
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The steaks were washed away in the rain |
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Finished up in bed with an old acquaintance |
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She'll never be my friend again |
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And everyone was asking me where's the little woman |
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Rolled home before the rain could stop |
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I've been sitting for days reading pre-Christmas papers |
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With my heels on the table-top |
