I sit at night beneath the stars, where gentle breezes blow,
Or stroll around that part of town, where magic lanterns glow,
An old beer garden comes to life, the crowd begins to sway,
I'm waitin' for a friend of mine, who had to go away.
And somewhere there's dancing, under an indian moon,
Pickin' up old pearling shells on another night in Broome.
I turn my back on station life and headed for the sea,
Where fishing boats and travellers made ancient mystery,
And island traders wander by, there's java in the air,
And music drifting through the trees, could be miles from anywhere,
But if somewhere there's dancing, under an indian moon,
Pickin' up old pearling shells on another night in Broome.
I watched the silver water fade and catch the setting sun,
Out where the dreaming spirits whispers songs for everyone,
Then an old red ute goes rolling by, headin' for the plain,
Going to meet a friend of mine, who's coming home again;
But if somewhere there's dancing, under an indian moon,
Pickin' up old pearling shells on another night in Broome.
But if somewhere there's dancing, under an indian moon,
Pickin' up old pearling shells on another night in Broome.
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From his album: "The Man who is Australia" Disc 2
Or stroll around that part of town, where magic lanterns glow,
An old beer garden comes to life, the crowd begins to sway,
I'm waitin' for a friend of mine, who had to go away.
And somewhere there's dancing, under an indian moon,
Pickin' up old pearling shells on another night in Broome.
I turn my back on station life and headed for the sea,
Where fishing boats and travellers made ancient mystery,
And island traders wander by, there's java in the air,
And music drifting through the trees, could be miles from anywhere,
But if somewhere there's dancing, under an indian moon,
Pickin' up old pearling shells on another night in Broome.
I watched the silver water fade and catch the setting sun,
Out where the dreaming spirits whispers songs for everyone,
Then an old red ute goes rolling by, headin' for the plain,
Going to meet a friend of mine, who's coming home again;
But if somewhere there's dancing, under an indian moon,
Pickin' up old pearling shells on another night in Broome.
But if somewhere there's dancing, under an indian moon,
Pickin' up old pearling shells on another night in Broome.
------------------------------------------
From his album: "The Man who is Australia" Disc 2