
Town with No Cheer Tom Waits
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Town with No Cheer" by Tom Waits. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.

Well, it's hotter than blazes and all the long faces
There'll be no oasis for a dry local grazier
There'll be no refreshment for a thirsty jackaroo
From Melbourne to Adelaide on the overlander
With newfangled buffet cars and faster locomotives
The train stopped in Serviceton less and less often
There's nothing sadder than a town with no cheer
Vic Rail decided the canteen was no longer necessary there
No spirits, no bilgewater and eighty dry locals
And the high noon sun beats a hundred-and-four
There's a hummingbird trapped in a closed-down shoe store
This tiny Victorian rhubarb
Kept the watering hole open for sixty-five years
Now it's boilin' in a miserable March 21st
Wrapped the hills in a blanket of Paterson's curse
The train smokes down the xylophone
There'll be no stopping here
All you can be is thirsty in a town with no cheer
No Bourbon, no Branchwater
Though the townspeople here
Fought her Vic Rail decree tooth and nail
Now it's boilin' in a miserable March 21st
Wrapped the hills in a blanket of Paterson's curse
The train smokes down the xylophone
There'll be no stopping here
All you can be is thirsty in a town with no cheer
There'll be no oasis for a dry local grazier
There'll be no refreshment for a thirsty jackaroo
From Melbourne to Adelaide on the overlander
With newfangled buffet cars and faster locomotives
The train stopped in Serviceton less and less often
There's nothing sadder than a town with no cheer
Vic Rail decided the canteen was no longer necessary there
No spirits, no bilgewater and eighty dry locals
And the high noon sun beats a hundred-and-four
There's a hummingbird trapped in a closed-down shoe store
This tiny Victorian rhubarb
Kept the watering hole open for sixty-five years
Now it's boilin' in a miserable March 21st
Wrapped the hills in a blanket of Paterson's curse
The train smokes down the xylophone
There'll be no stopping here
All you can be is thirsty in a town with no cheer
No Bourbon, no Branchwater
Though the townspeople here
Fought her Vic Rail decree tooth and nail
Now it's boilin' in a miserable March 21st
Wrapped the hills in a blanket of Paterson's curse
The train smokes down the xylophone
There'll be no stopping here
All you can be is thirsty in a town with no cheer
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.