La La La.. La La La..
HOoowls of loud horns,
Bowls of cloud corns,
Traffic seize, a terrific breeze,
Rising dust n falling dusk,
A month too soon
are the monsoons.
Headin’ home is the city,
We’d stay here, show no pity,
Ramblin’ on the footpath,
Gamblin’ on all we hath.
Some more rum n come and hum!
La La La.. La’ footpath!
Rolling stones, strolling clones,
Some lazy folk n lousy smoke,
Oozing gutter, booze n stutter,
Eager sellers, meager dwellers,
N evening jogs of starving dogs.
Dear O dear, all that’s here,
Is either bad, or so sad,
Yet we sing, a cheerful song,
N we have, the skies to bong,
Bring it on; come sing along!
La La La.. La’ footpath!
Enter the buzz, bus and bustle,
The grumbling crew, in the tumbling dew,
Seeking havens, cursing heavens,
They all got wet, and all upset.
But a pretty lass, liked the jazz,
Pushed the fuss, came to us,
Took a peg n shook her leg,
Like her swirling gown could shade a town.
“Fool O fool; life’s beauteeefooool!”
The dancing doll, says to all.
That multitude can hardly infer,
N we can only hope, that it were.
Yet, boy O boy, buoy the joy!
La La La.. La’ footpath!
La La La.. La La La…
