Way
down in the land of the Antipodes
Where the lights of the camp-fires shine bright on the trees
Bushmen will tell you as night shadows fall
There's a ghost roams the ranges with no boots at all.
No
boots, no boots at all,
Roaming the ranges with no boots at all!
Way down in
the city so sinful and bad,
There lived a young fellow, a promising lad
He wanted to be a big bold mountaineer,
But his mother replied as she tossed down her beer:
Our hero, he murmured "Regardless press on",
When she woke in the morning, she found he was gone
And off to the hills went her agonised shout:
"You've got no boots at all if you want to bail out!"
He found a big mountain and climbed to the top
And stood on the edge of that horrible drop,
He thought of his mother all over again,
He could still hear her shouting that mournful refrain:
The god of the mountain looked down from his throne
And saw the young climber astanding alone.
He said to his angel "Go down with a swoosh
And give that young fellow a helluva push".
|
The
Angel of Destiny swept through the pass,
And planted a foot fair and square on his pants.
As over and over and over fell he
The angels were singing this sweet melody:
St Peter, he stood at the heavenly gate,
Checking in drunks coming early and late.
The Orderly Angel just dropped in to say,
"There's a dirty big climber a-coming this way."
St Peter came down with a bucket of beer,
Saying, "Sorry, young fellow, you can't come in here.....
With thousands of angels to answer your call,
You'd be no good in heaven with no boots at all".
The night it was stormy, the hour it was late,
When our hero arrived at the Satanic Gate,
The little black devils, they spat in his face
To show you, they said, it's a helluva place!
The devil said "Sorry, I can't let you in
Unless you've been leading a lifetime of sin.
But how could you wallow, and how could you fall?
You can't be a sinner with no boots at all!"
Now all you young fellows who some day may roam,
Be careful to stay with your mother at home.
With no one to love him or answer his call,
His ghost roams the ranges with no boots at all. |
