Oh give me a home, where the nightfighters* roam
And the area boyz* they hold sway
Where often is heard a disparaging word
And the beer is all cloudy and grey

Chorus:
Oh! Lagos is strange If you stay there too long you're deranged
Where the NEPA breaks down, and potholes abound
And Bar Beach is eroding away

What a wonderful sight to watch everyone shit
With their arses hung over the side
Of the wall to the creek, where each day of the week
The bodies float by on the tide . . .

Chorus:

Now to get into town, or just moving around
Transport is hard to be found
Well there's always a queue, 'cause the molues are few
And their motos just keep breaking down . . .

Chorus:

Oh, the last Saturday is for clearing away
But the refuse collection is lax
Well they haven't no brains when they muck out the drains'
Cause the rain washes most of it back! . . .

Chorus:

Mismanagement here; well they all like their beer
And it's true they're occasionally pissed
Now "Rule Number One" says no poofs on the run
But the "odd" one or two they get missed . . .

Chorus:

In the Circle don't chat, 'cause the RA's no prat
With down-downs to keep those mouths stilled
And if that don't suffice, he'll sit them on ice
And their bare bums will also get chilled . . .

Chorus:  

There are those who come just to wiggle their bum
Hoping to stir up some trade
But the hashers round here just down down their beer
And get too f**king pissed to get laid.

Chorus:

* Nighterfighters = whore
* Area Boyz = local hooligans