Let
me tell you a little story about the way things used to be.
My dad took me to Sydney back in 1943.
He said,
son,
you're not wearing those they call us bushgaloots.
If you went out and walked about in those high heel riding boots,
I'd stand back and laugh today at the way that times have changed.
So many town folk dressed as if they'd just stepped off the reins.
But that day back in 1943 I could not pick and choose.
The day my old man made me wear a pair of lace-up shoes.
We went out to Regal Zone a phone on Parramatta Road.
We walked along Columbia Lane where some
famous feet have strode.
But the man in charge was not impressed.
Don't call us, we'll call
you.
And to make things worse my feet still
hurt in those damn new lace-up shoes.
And
there were soldiers everywhere in town.
Six p.m.
was closing time.
And if you didn't tip
everywhere you went the Yanks won all the time.
I was pushed along as I dreamed of
home but the skies were clear and blue.
Far away from that rat race in town and
big moths of lace-up shoes.
But I stand back and laugh today at the way that
times have changed.
So many town folk dressed as if they'd just stepped off the
reins.
But that day back in 1943 I could not pick and choose.
The day my old man
made me wear a pair of lace-up shoes.
Now as I look back on my singing track since 1943,
the harder I've worked you
know old mate the luckier I seem to be.
That of all was sung of the old home run in the
best way that I knew.
That I still feel bad when I think of Dad in those damn new lace-up
shoes.
But I stand back and laugh today at the way that times have changed.
So many town
folk dressed as if they'd just stepped off the reins.
And I've lived my life with
few regrets the same again I choose.
And be flat as a tack in this old felt hat
and a pair of Williams shoes.
Ah here's the hard bit.
Dee yodel dee yodel
dee yodel dee.