Текст песни My Boomerang Wont Come Back (Charlie Drake) с переводом

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.

(Animal noises)

DRAKE: 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 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,

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.

«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 got to… throw it.»

DRAKE: Ooh, yes! Never thought of that. Daddy will be pleased. Must have a go,

nyuh-huh! Excuse 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 know, 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 bit more

perspective…

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