Born in racing yacht one night at sea
Yacht club carpet has stains from his pee 
Favorite toy was a code flag B 
And he charged at the bar, when he was only three. 

Dennis, Dennis Conner 
They call him the Comeback Kid 

Raced doublehanded 'cause he was so poor 
'Till the fleet was licked, and fame was in store 
But while he was handling this risky chore 
He made some people angry forever more 

Dennis, Dennis Conner 
They call him the Comeback Kid 

He went off to Newport to raise some hell 
Messin' up the starts, you could hear him yell 
Drove every Twelve, so we hear tell, 
Too bad he couldn't win with Liberty as well. 

Dennis, Dennis Conner 
Head in the trophy case 

When he lost the Cup, his grief was tall 
There were times he wanted to end it all 
And sail right over a waterfall 
But he answered instead, his yacht club's call 

Dennis, Dennis Conner 
They call him the Comeback Kid 

When he come home, the Cup soundly won 
The fundraising drive had just begun 
He completely forgot t'was 'sposed to be fun 
And pasted a logo on his number one 

Dennis, Dennis Conner 
Grovelling for corporate bucks 

His boat is fastest, and his boat is best 
But the old Stars and Stripes, he's giving it a rest 
Can he build another hull for the Kiwi test? 
I'll bet the Cup goes  to the south and to the west! 

Dennis, Dennis Conner 
We'll see you in Auckland soon 
See you in Auckland soon.... 

 I stayed in the pub till nearly seven,
Two-thirds shickered,out of cash,
Where am I going to find some bottles,
To cart along to Charlie's bash?

Chorus

Rows of bottles leaning sideways,
Heaps of bottles in the path.
Some poor begger comes a cropper,
An' all those jokers have to laugh.

I nick half a dozen from Charlie's locker,
See his face when he finds 'em gone.
Not too steady climbing High Street,
Hope that I don't meet a 'John'.

It's getting late when I meet my sheila,
She seems to think I've been all day.
She sits by the driver in the taxi,
Hasn't got a word to say.

Things are moving up at Charlie's,
Hear the noise for half a mile.
I give my sheila golden sherry,
Then I hit the bar a while.

Chorus

The women sitting on the sofa,
Gave up drinking an hour ago,
So I get with the jokers in the corner,
Sing all the smutty songs we know.

Grog is cut 'bout eleven-thirty,
The boys go whoopin' out for more.
Someone's calling out for Charlie,
But Charlie's flaked on the kitchen floor.

Chorus

Now my sheila's got her coat on
Leads me out and boy I'm crook
I go sailing in the gutter
She walks off without a look

In the morning, cripes I'm rotten
Tongue's got whiskers, eyelids clash
But roll on week until it's Friday
And Charlie has another bash.

Chorus