Travelling in a fried-out Kombi,
On a hippie trail, head full of zombie,
I met a strange lady, she made me nervous,
She took me in and gave me breakfast,
And she said . . .

"Do you come from a land down under?
Where women glow and men plunder,
Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder,
You better run, you better take cover."

Buying bread from a man in Brussels,
He was six-foot four and full of muscles,
I said "Do you speak my language?"
He just smiled and gave me a Vegemite sandwich,
And he said . . .

"I come from a land down under,
Where beer does flow and men chunder,
Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder,
You better run, you better take cover."

Lying in a den in Bombay,
With a slack jaw and not much to say,
Said to the man "Are you trying to tempt me?
Because I come from the land of plenty?"
And he said . . .

"Oh! Do you come from a land down under?
Where women glow and men plunder,
Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder,
You better run, you better take cover."