The Backroom

Down by the Hunter where the coal-trucks roll

And the billboards tell ya where to save your soul

There’s another place, does a better job by far

When the moonlight hammers on the railway bridge

And the whole world’s lookin’ for a beverage

And you ain’t got nothin’, nothin’ in the boot a the car

Time for the backroom at Dougie and Gleny Rae’s tikki bar

When the coal-trucks settle up and down the line

You can wake up thinking that it’s ‘89

But there’s another sound, thicker than a Bolivar

You can hear it pumping out the roll-a-door

Walnut piano on a wooden floor

Backbeat drummer, Roy on a slide guitar

Coming from the backroom at Dougie and Gleny Rae’s tikki bar

When the high tide’s suckin’ at the old sea wall

And the full moon’s lookin’ like a mirror ball

Bigger than Elvis, hotter than a speedway star

With a wet paypacket on a midnight hand

They say you can win a mariachi band

You can lose a girl, quicker than a coup de grace

In the backroom at Dougie and Gleny Rae’s tikki bar

Haul that mother, haul that son

Haul that rubber to the end of a run

That ain’t got ridden since between the wars

All hidden from the liquor laws

Down by the Hunter where the coal-trucks roll

And the billboards tell ya where to save your soul

There’s another place, does a better job by far

That’s the backroom (at Dougie and Gleny Rae’s)