Nunga-Nungas

Lyrics

It's nineteen ninety-four, a two-dollar coin on the green felt edge.
Stacey’s sitting with the boys, so everyone’s backing off the ledge.
I’m halfway through a surfing tale, the suspension shot on the Holden ute,
I hit the climax, see her face, and scramble for a substitute.
I cannot use the tavern drawl, I cannot use the clinic chart,
I need a double-syllable to capture the swinging from the start.

So it’s nunga-nungas.
Just a heavy little rhythm in the cheek.
Nunga-nungas.
When a gentleman forgets the way to speak.
It’s a pair of vowels bouncing on the tongue,
A playground chant for when the night is young.
No poetry, no clever little grace,
Just two big drums right in the middle of the space.

The old men used to weave a joke, a parlor trick, a subtle game,
But we just take the alphabet and hit it with a heavy frame.
The jaw goes slack a half-beat early, the body knowing what to dodge,
And builds a little bouncy-castle out of this phonetic hodge-podge.
Stacey takes a sip of gin, she doesn't even blink an eye,
We think we’re being chivalrous, she knows we’re barely aiming high.

It’s a rhythm you can drum upon the bar.
A heavy, happy swinging in the car.
We lose the wit, we drop the ancient art,
And play percussion when we try to play it smart.
It’s dumb, it’s loud, it drops down to the floor,
We aren't hiding from the vicar anymore.

Just a sound.
Just a double beat to save the afternoon.
We’re just toddlers in the tavern,
Humming a heavy little tune.
Nothing clever.
Just the bounce.