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• Artiste: Cold Chisel
• Titre: Ita
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Every night when I get home I settle down to prime time limbo When all the boys are gathered around Shouting Ita'a on TV And though the roaches are thick on the ground Somebody goes to close my window Keep the noise of the city down Get a dose of integrity Every week, in every home She got wholesome news for the family I believe, I believe, in what she says Yes I do I believe, I believe, at the end of the day Her magazine'll get me through Ita's tongue never touches her lips She could always be my godmother And though the desk-top hides her hips My imagination's strong She's the sweetest thing I've ever seen I'd like to take her out to dinner But when I think about the places I've been I'd probably hold my fork all wrong Every day and every night She's the only one we can depend upon I believe, I believe, in what she says Yes I do I believe, I believe, at the end of the day Her magazine'll get me through To every housewife through the land There is no-one else they can depend upon How could I not believe, when Ita tells me too