The Cha Cha Bar Was Sliding And We Swan Across The


Scotchman On The Rocks (so Many Rocks . . .


And Glass And Sand.) In Shock We Docked In


Fish Head Harbour Where The Lights Were Dimmed.


(Locked In, We Couldn't See A Thing . . . )


The Floors Was Tin, The Sky Was Oil, The Air Was


Poisoned Lager And The Juke Box Pumped Out


Schlager Because No-one Pulled The Plugs


(so Many Plugs . . . And Sparks.) The Live Wives Kept Us Dancing.


Dance In Brine, Dance In Seaweed.