Tune: Homeward bound

Sitting in a leaky tent,Completely stuffed, completely spent, mm, mm.In the rain we are beset,My friends say that I should not fret,The ground is cold, my feet are wet,If I could think I’d like to get,Up the spur. I wish I was,Up the spur.Up, near the motor cars,Up, to the dingy bars,Up, close to the stars -Silently sleeping.

I’ve walked all over Snowy Bluff,Nearly croaked, totally puffed, mm, mm.So now I’m lying here in pain. My body racked with stress and strain,In the tent, the drenching rain,We will sing the sad refrain,Dead and drowned.I wish I was,Dead and drowned.Dead, under water tumbling,Drowned, slipping and stumbling,Drowned, burbling and bubbling -Silently chilling.

If I could move I’d go back home,Lie in bed, unhook the phone, mm, mm.Memories come back to me,Of dry and warm and cups of tea,No need to camp beneath a tree,And indoors I can nicely pee.Far from here.I wish I was,Far from here.Far, from Moroka’s side.Far, from a slippery slide,Far, from a soggy hide -Drier and warmer.

We finally did make it back,Up the hill, used no track, mm, mm.Raged into the cars on time,The sky was blue, the sun did shine,Alive and well, feeling fine,About the trip I’m now sanguine.Down the spur.I wish I was,Down the spur.Down, where the pools are rushing,Down, where the falls are crashing,Down, where the scrub is brushing -Placid and peaceful.

To seven very determined people.