Thirty Six Africa Street in Bushtown
Number a name and a street
But old Bushtown has tumbled down
And overgrown with concrete

I was born in old Bushtown
Without a claim to fame
I don't think that anyone
Could quite recall my name

I grew up with a mongrel pup
And fishing hooks and line
Winding tracks and treehouse shacks
And Africa was mine

Thirty Six Africa Street in Bushtown
Number a name and a street
But old Bushtown has tumbled down
And overgrown with concrete

I remember the rainy nights
And drums across the sky
And I'd get lost in my kaross
So frightened I could cry

I remember the blazing days
A drought and once a flood
My first sight of a bar-room fight
Of dead men and of blood

Thirty Six Africa Street in Bushtown
Number a name and a street
But old Bushtown has tumbled down
And overgrown with concrete

First time that I left that place
Was in a Model A
We rolled down to another town
'Bout thirty miles away

Moonlight showed up a two-track road
The middle grass was high
I felt the stump ripping off the sump
And the radiator ran dry

Thirty Six Africa Street in Bushtown
Number a name and a street
But old Bushtown has tumbled down
And overgrown with concrete

Thirty Six Africa Street in Bushtown
Number a name and a street
But old Bushtown has tumbled down