{Oom-yacka-wurka, oom-yacka-wurka, oom-yacka-wurka}
In the bad backlands of Australia
Many years ago,
The aborigine tribes were meeting,
Having a big pow-wow.
{Oom-yacka-wurka, oom-yacka-wurka}
"We got a lot of trouble, Chief,
On account of your son Mack."
"My boy Mack? Why, what's wrong with him?"
Drake: My boomerang won't come back.
"Your boomerang won't come back?"
Drake: My boomerang won't come back,
My boomerang won't come back,
I've waved the thing all over the place,
Practised till I was black in the face,
I'm a big disgrace to the Aborigine race,
My boomerang won't come back.
Drake: I can ride a kangaroo {yeah yeah}
Make kinkajou stew {yeah yeah}
But I'm a big disgrace to the Aborigine race,
My boomerang won't come back.
They banished him from the tribe then
And sent him on his way,
He had a backless boomerang
So here he could not stay.
{Outback animal noises.}
Drake: [Spoken] This is nice, innit? Getting banished at my time of life. What a way to spend an evening: sitting on a rock in the middle of the desert with me boomerang in me hand. I shall very likely get bushwhacked.
{An animal roars; Drake shrieks back.}
Drake: Get out of it! You nasty bushwhacking animal. Think I'll make a nice cup of tea. {Doing, doing, doing...} Good gracious! There goes a kangaroo. I must have a practice with me boomerang: hit him right behind the left earhole. Now then, slowly back.
[Gruff voice] If you throw that thing at me, I'll jump right on your head. {It chuckles and bounces away.}
Drake: Innit marvellous? Got a land full of kangaroos and I had to pick that one.
For three long months he sat there
Or maybe it was four,
Then an old old man in a kangaroo skin
Came a-knocking at his door.
"Well, I'm the local witch doctor, son,
They call me George Alfred Black.
Now tell m
