{Oom-yacka-wurka, oom-yacka-wurka, oom-yacka-wurka}

In the bad backlands of Australia

Many years ago,

The aborigine tribes were meeting,

Having a big pow-wow.

{Oom-yacka-wurka, oom-yacka-wurka}

"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,

I've waved the thing all over the place,

Practised till I was black in the face,

I'm a big disgrace to the Aborigine race,

My boomerang won't come back.

Drake: I can ride a kangaroo {yeah yeah}

Make kinkajou stew {yeah yeah}

But I'm a big disgrace to the Aborigine race,

My boomerang won't come back.

They banished him from the tribe then

And sent him on his way,

He had a backless boomerang

So here he could not stay.

{Outback animal noises.}

Drake: [Spoken] This is nice, innit? Getting banished at my time of life. What a way to spend 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, doing...} Good gracious! There goes a kangaroo. I must have a practice with me boomerang: 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. {It chuckles and bounces away.}

Drake: Innit marvellous? Got a land full of kangaroos and I had to pick that one.

For three long months he sat there

Or maybe it was four,

Then an old old man in a kangaroo skin

Came a-knocking at his door.

"Well, I'm the local witch doctor, son,

They call me George Alfred Black.

Now tell m