My Boomerang Wont Come Back

{tuning: Standard (EADGBE)}
[G]In the bad backlands of Australia
[C]Many years ago,[G]
The aborigine tribes were meeting,
Having a big pow-wow[D].

(Oom-yacka-wurka, oom-yacka-wurka)

[G]"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,[D]
I've [G]waved the thing all over the place,
[C]Practised till I was [C+Eb]black in the face,
I'm a [G]big disgrace t' Aborigine race,
My [D]boomerang won't come back. [G]

DRAKE: I can ride a kangaroo (yeah yeah)
Make kinkajou stew [D](yeah yeah)
But I'm [G]big disgrace t' Aborigine race,
My [D]boomerang won't come [G]back.

They banished him from the tribesland
And [C]sent him on his way,[G]
He had a backless boomerang
So here he could not [D]stay.

(Animal noises)

DRAKE: [Spoken] This is nice, innit? Getting banished at my time of life. What a way to
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...) Good gracious! There goes a kangaroo. I must have a practice with me
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. (popeye-laugh
bounces away.)

DRAKE:[G] Innit marvellous? Got a land full of kangaroos and I had to pick that one.

For three long months he sat there
Or[C] maybe it was four[G],
Then an old old man in a kangaroo skin
Came a-knocking at his [D]door.

[G]"Well, I'm the local witch doctor, son,
They call me George Alfred Black.
Now tell me, what's your trouble, boy?"
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,[D]
I've [G]waved the thing all over the place,
[C]Practised till I was [C+Eb]black in the face,
I'm a [G]big disgrace t' Aborigine race,
My [D]boomerang won't come back. [G]

[G]"Don't worry, boy, I know the trick,
And to you I'm gonna show it.
If you want your boomerang to come back,
Well first you've gotta... throw it." [music ends here - makes for a good punchline if
performing ;)]

DRAKE: Ooh, yes! Never thought of that. Daddy will be pleased. Must have a go, nyuh-huh!
me.
Now then, slowly back... and.. throw.

(Boomerang whizzes away; Sounds of a plane approaching and then falling from the sky.)

DRAKE: Ooh my God! I've hit the flying doctor. Eee-hee-hee! Can you do first aid?
Witch Doctor: Don't talk to me about first aid, boy, you owe me fourteen chickens, you
when
I learned you to throw the boomerang, you know, first things first.
DRAKE: Yes, I know that, but I mean, I think on this occasion, you know, you could be a
more
perspective...........