From the recording Sometimes I Wake Up Naked
About The Song
Tuesday Night in the Jungle was written following a Tuesday evening spent at the movies. As I left the cinema and started back to my car, I was approached by a young male looking for handouts. I gave him $2 and said, “Take care of yourself, mate.” Not that I expected him to take care of himself on $2. I remember a light rain was falling, and there weren’t many people out. There was no loud music booming out of the pubs and bars along the street like there is later on in the week. A few young kids were just hanging around and the whole atmosphere seemed downbeat, lonely, and depressing.
The phrase, “It’s Tuesday night in the jungle,” just popped into my head, and another song was born. There’s no point in giving a verse by verse explanation of the song. The jungle is a very obvious metaphor for the city at night. The people who frequent the city at night, young and old, lonely and desperate are not meant to be regarded as ‘dogs’ in any real sense of the word. Again the word is a metaphor for the hunger, loneliness, and desperation I imagined they might feel night after night.
JIM LESSES (vocals & guitar); JOHN MUNRO (mandolin); DON HOLDERNESSE (bass guitar, piano, saxophone, shakers); RICHARD TONKIN (accordion).
Tuesday Night in The Jungle
© 1998, Jim Lesses. All Rights Reserved.
Tuesday Night in The Jungle, and the dogs are moving in,
They’re looking for some action, and they’re kicking over bins.
The night is full of shadows, and the air it smells of rain,
While music drifts across the street and covers up the pain.
Tuesday night in the jungle, and the dogs begin to run,
They found the scent of blood, and now they want to have their fun.
The Night Patrol is running, but y'know they’ll be alright.
There’s nothing they like better, than to start another fight.
Tuesday night in the jungle, and the dogs are moving out,
They’re heading for the high ground, there isn’t any doubt.
The water table is rising, and the temperature is too,
So lock and bar the door, because they’re coming after you.
Inside The Lonely Bar & Grill, they’re talking final calls,
They’re wiping down the tables, and racking up the balls.
No-one is in a hurry yet to shuffle out the door,
Except perhaps the drunkard, leering at the whore.
Tuesday night in the jungle, and the dogs have gone to bed,
There are secrets in the darkness, that are better left unsaid.
The Night Patrol is busy taking statements underground,
The dogs are twitching in their sleep, making little sounds.
Tuesday night in the jungle, and the dogs have settled down,
They’ve had their fill of corpses, and they’re sleeping on the ground.
Stars behind the neon shine, and look like purple lights,
There’s movement at the edges, and I wonder if it bites.
Tuesday night in the jungle, Oh... oh...