Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,
A tale of a fateful trip
That started from this tropic port
Out west to Prossie Tip.
The car was a mighty Commodore,
It's grip brave and sure.
Four passengers set forth that day
For a One hour tour, a One hour tour.
The weather started getting rough,
The Commodore was tossed,
Flooding waters crossed the road,
The linemarking was lost, the linemarking was lost.
The car sat around on the shore of this new uncharted tropic isle,
With the passenger,
The garbage too,
My mate's dog,
and his wife,
The other cars,
The policeman and council man,
Stuck on Airlie Isle.
So this is the tale of Airlie castaways,
They're not stuck for a very long time,
They'll have to make the best of things,
And join the check out lines.
The driver and the Commodore,
Will do their very best,
To make the others comfortable,
In this temporary island nest.
There's phone, There's lights, There's motor cars,
Every single luxury,
Unlike Robinson Crusoe,
As well off as can be.
So join us here each year my friends,
You're sure to get a smile,
From many stranded castaways,
Here on "Airlie Isle."
(To the tune of the Theme from Gilligans Island)
Lyrics on Demand