| Connie goes down to the Pier Hotel
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| She’s on the lookout for a quick romance
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| She talks real slow and she never could spell
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| But Jesus don’t you watch her dance
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| Well the Pier’s never been no youth hostel
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| Those bayside boys are all as crazy as hell
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| And when she hits that floor like a cannonshell
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| They only wanna get inside her pants
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| With his feet spread out and his shoulders shakin'
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| Some fisherman takes her hand
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| And they clear the floor and they shout more music
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| And they dance until she just can’t stand
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| And he leads her down past the Baytown jetty
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| To a place he’s found, and he lets her down steady
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| And the stars hang low like bleached confetti
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| And they make sweet love in the sand
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| You know times are tough in old S.A.
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| They got thousands on the dole
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| And when the weekend comes they wanna drown their troubles
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| At the very best waterhole
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| And it feels much better when they get to thinkin'
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| Of the nights ahead when they hit Port Lincoln
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| And the Pier Hotel where theyíll all be drinkin'
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| To the Baytown rock’n’roll
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| He’s leaning on the verandah rail
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| Sipping Queensland rum
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| She’s strolling back to the Pier Hotel
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| Her legs are kind of numb
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| Their eyes lock on for a second too long
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| And though they’ve never met
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| The message gets through and Connie starts thinkiní
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| The night ain’t over yet
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| Oh no the night ain’t over yet |