Charlie Drake
My Boomerang won't come Back

Oom-yacka-wurka, oom-yacka-wurka, oom-yacka-wurka

G
In the bad backlands of Australia
C           G
Many years ago,
The aborigine tribes were meeting,
                   D
Having a big pow-wow.

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

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

They banished him from the tribesland
     C                  G
And sent him on his way,
He had a backless boomerang
                       D
So here he could not 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
   C                 G
Or maybe it was four,
Then an old old man in a kangaroo skin
                        D
Came a-knocking at his 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,
                                D
My boomerang won't come back,
       G
I've waved the thing all over the place,
C                 Cm
Practised till I was black in the face,
     G
'm a big disgrace t' Aborigine race,
     D                            G
My boomerang won't come back. 

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."