| Travelling in a fried-out Kombi
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| On a hippie trail, head full of zombie
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| I met a strange lady, she made me nervous
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| She took me in and gave me breakfast
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| And she said
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| «Do you come from a land down under
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| Where women glow and men plunder
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| Can’t you hear, can’t you hear the thunder
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| You better run, you better take cover.»
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| Buying bread from a man in Brussels
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| He was six foot four and full of muscle
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| I said, «Do you speak-a my language?»
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| He just smiled and gave me a Vegemite sandwich
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| And he said
|
| «I come from a land down under
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| Where beer does flow and men chunder
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| Can’t you hear, can’t you hear the thunder
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| You better run, you better take cover.»
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| Lying in a den in Bombay
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| Slack jaw, not much to say
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| I said to the man, «Are you trying to tempt me
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| Because I come from the land of plenty?»
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| And he said
|
| «Oh! |
| Do you come from a land down under (oh yeah yeah)
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| Where women glow and men plunder
|
| Can’t you hear, can’t you hear the thunder
|
| You better run, you better take cover.» |