Has anyone seen Dennis?

Dennis has a most remarkable knack
He disappears whenever he is needed,
To explain something gone to wrack
Or why a warning wasn’t heeded.
If money, from a gig, goes missing.
It has always gone on buying dope
Or on drink, which you end up pissing
Against a wall, without a forlorn hope
That you'll find him, even if you look for him everywhere
For Dennis, like a cat going to the vet, is never there.

I first met Dennis, when he was a singer
With a band called Sherbet, like the drink,
Sweet and rather sickly, inclined to linger
Appealing to girls below the legal brink.
They really could play well enough to make it
But chose to assume the shiny, plastic look
Trying to appeal to the teeny-boppers for a hit,
I preferred to spend time reading a good book.
If you want Dennis, he might be here or there
With one of those girls, hiding under the stair.

Dennis tried to look like Rod Stewart
He was a Pict or Scot, or a what not,
He came from Scotland and played the part
Acting behind the façade of a friendly clot.
From his name, he probably came up a loch
In a dragon ship with blood and fire
Bringing rape and pillage to the peaceful flock,
Or something equally violent and dire.
If you want Dennis, look for some weed aflame,
But take care, for it is you that he will blame.

I was at his wedding in King’s Cross,
That is in Sydney, not the one in London,
It was in a smart Chapel, no bloody dross,
Crowds to squeeze through, with a pardon,
And the heavy NSW police at us did stare
Looking very menacing and school-bully hard,
They didn't like these hippies with long hair,
If they could, our faces they would have marred.
Dennis was there that day, walking up the aisle,
He acted the part with a fair amount of style.

His wife’s parents seemed very nice to me,
And almost pleaded that I come along,
When I was thinking of surf and dozing by the sea,
To join the reception, for a night of song.
(I think it was because I spoke like a nob
And had short hair, perhaps because I played rugger,
And had been to Uni, and worked at a normal job -
All the things I tried to hide, like a silly bugger).
Dennis stood and smiled, whilst in a state of panic
And felt a fool, oh, what a tool, all to sate his dick.

His wife smiled at the camera
Like the cat that got the cream.
She had caught a rock star
But did not live the dream.
For she needed to earn money by teaching
And for that you must plan and prepare.
Dennis couldn't stand her preaching
And the nasty way that she would glare.
To me she cried, “Has anybody seen Dennis
For he is my husband, and him I do miss.”

I knew where, and with whom he was at play
For rock stars have to go and work at gigs,
But it would have been cruel anything to say.
For the groupies hang around like little pigs
And then he would go along with the flow
And play all night, before homeward bound.
They would come to the dressing room the band to blow
While we talked and moved amplifiers around.
Dennis would be there, in one hand a joint,
Whilst a girl his parts tenderly did anoint.

The girls are tall and short, thin or stout
Big boobs, little boobs;sometimes the law they flout
Sometimes quiet, and sometimes in passion they shout,
But they all want to shag a star, of that there is no doubt
With mouth so painted and skirt so short.
That you can see their pants, when over they bend
You don't know what you may have caught,
Lets hope that it is nothing you can't mend.
Has anyone seen Dennis? Some money him I did lend
His wife hasn’t heard, not since last weekend.

The last time I saw Dennis, it was a douzy
He invited me somewhere south of the harbour
Coogee or Sans Souci, pronounced Sands Suzi
With an upward inflection, or the locals turn sour.
He had moved into management and sang no more
Except when the singer was moody or indisposed.
I listened to this band called AC/DC, "not hard core -
They will never get anywhere", I thought as I dozed
Has anyone seen Dennis, he is not on the floor,
Every wants to see him, he is needed at the door?

We sat and talked in the dressing room
And blew a joint or two, whilst outside,
One of the band, possibly the singer,
There, in the corridor, no attempt to hide.
Bent a groupie over a speaker or PA
And proceeded to prove the group’s name
Has anyone seen Dennis? He won’t come on stage
Until he finishes, and gets in a rage
And tells us to "Fuck off" when we try to make him.
We need Dennis to sort him out or sing instead.
I wonder what happened to that band?
Is Dennis still with them? Have they seen Dennis
Or is his head stuck in the sand?

Has anyone seen Dennis? He was my friend.
When he walked away from Sherbet,
They were resident at Jonathon's.
Was it because Daryl was a success?
He was the star and took a chance on a bet
He thought their knees would bend
And they would plead for him to return.
I was there - as friend should be -
But they never came on bended knee.

When his wife and he did part
I gave him a place to stay
But when he owed me money
Then I turned him away.
We need friends more than gold
And he was in a bad way.
Nothing changes in this old world;
Someone will shout where is that so and so
Dennis, he owes the whole world money.
Now I’m getting old, but this I know
Time gets faster and will not slow
Was he to blame, or a just a lost soul
I'm looking for him,has anyone seen Dennis,
Is he still alive, is he still on the piss?