We’re going out tonight when the moon is full and the Karma’s right
To play leapfrog through the gardens - it’s an old suburban rite
We could meet at two for a skinny dip in the swimming pool
By the school house on the corner where that poodle bit my shoe
Going over the wall
To answer the call of nature to go wild
Like Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s child...
Let’s go fence-hopping tonight
Let’s go fence-hopping tonight
Ahhh – Fence-hopping tonight
Wearing Grandma’s bra, use a motor mower as a bumper car
To crash headlong through the hedges like a scene from Peckinpah
To number Sweet Sixteen for a swing and slide and a trampoline
Push the greenhouse in the fishpond - spank the gnomes and paint them green
When the world is asleep
At the Witching Hour when the shades and shadows creep
We’ll make our lovers leap...
CHORUS
Rip your pants on a nail
You’re going to jail if you leave a trail of clues
Singing "Cockadoodle-Doo!"
CHORUS
Musicians:
- David Fisher – Vocal, Acoustic Guitars, Organ, Drums, Backing Vocals, Vocoder, Percussion
- Peter Watts – Electric Guitar, Jews’ Harp, Ukelele
- Tiv – Bass, Electric Guitar
- Martin Gregory – Tambourine
- Vicki Workman – Backing Vocals
Production:
Produced by David Fisher at Summerisle in Carshalton Beeches, UKNotes:
Song started life as I strummed the chords in a French motorway lay-by many years ago. It concerns the dubious nocturnal teenage sport of suburban garden "fencehopping". An associate of mine once partook of this anti-social pleasure and his friend ended up going to hospital after nearly emasculating himself on a barbed wire fence! To write the lyrics my mind wandered into neighbours gardens to imagine the transgressive thrill of it all - perhaps it even inspires the numinous feelings written about by Jean Genet as a burglar compares his experience to that of a pious believer entering the forbidden inner sanctum of the temple. They didn't have ASBOs in Genet's day.