The cha-cha bar was sliding   And we swam across the Scotchman on the rocks   (So many rocks . . . and glass and sand)   In shock we docked in Fish Head Harbour   Where the lights were dimmed   (Locked in, we couldn't see a thing . . . )   The floor was tin   The sky was oil   The air was poisoned lager   And the juke box pumped out schlager   Because no one pulled the plugs   (So many plugs . . . and sparks)   The live wires kept us dancing   Dance in brine, dance in seaweed