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| Son of Son of a Sailor | |
| Havana Daydreamin | |
| Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes |
|
| Margaritaville | |
| Volacano | |
| Cheeseburger in Paradise | |
| Pencil-thin Mustache | |
| Come Monday |
As the son of a son of a sailor,
I went out on the sea for
adventure,
Expanding ther view of the captain and
crew
Like a man just released from indenture.
As a
dreamer of dreams and a travelin' man,
I have chalked up many a
mile.
Read dozens of books about heroes and crooks,
And I've
learned much from both of their styles.
Son of a son, son of
a son, son of a son of a sailor.
Son of a gun; load the last
ton
One step ahead of the jailer.
Now away in the near
future, southeast of disorder,
You can shake the hand of the
mango man
As he greets you at the border.
And the lady she
hails from Trinidad,
Island of the spices.
Salt for your
meat and cinnamon sweet,
And the rum is for all your good
vices.
Haul the sheet in as we ride on the wind that
our
Forefathers harnessed before us.
Hear the bells ring as
the tide rigging sings.
It's a son of a gun of a
chorus.
Where it all ends I can't fathom, my friends.
If I
knew, I might toss out my anchor.
So I'll cruise along always
searchin' for songs,
Not a lawyer, a thief or a
banker.
But a son of a son, son of a son, son of a son of a
sailor.
Son of a gun, load the last ton
One step ahead of the
jailer
I'm just a son of a son, son of a son, son of a son of a
sailor
The sea's in my veins, my tradition remains.
I'm just
glad I don't live in a trailer.
Stashed his trash in Ecuador, bought a good suit of
clothes.
Flew on up to Mexico, standin' by the shore.
Waiting
for some mystery man, to pay him for his time.
Thinkin' about all
the money he made,
couldn't help to ease his mind
Havana
daydreamin' oh he's just dreamin' his life away.
Daddy
shucked that sugar cane,
One day he fell dead.
Jesus had a
wanderin' feelin'
Swimmin around in his head.
Sailin' on a
midnight boat,
There were no questions asked,
Water's so green
and the air was so clean
That he stuck right to his task, Havana
daydreamin',
Oh he's just schemin', his life away.
Ceilin'
fan stirs the air
Cigar smoke did swirl,
A fragrance on the
pillow case
And he thinks about the girl.
Spillin' wine and
sharin' good times
She sure could make him smile.
He pays her
well but what the hell
He'll be movin' in a little while, Havana
daydreamin',
Havana daydreamin'
Oh he'll be dreamin' his life
away.
I took off for a weekend last month
Just to try and recall the
whole year.
All of the faces and all of the places,
wonderin'
where they all disappeared.
I didn't ponder the question too
long;
I was hungrey and went out for a bite.
Ran into a chum
with a bottle of rum,
and we wound up drinkin' all
night.
It's those changes in latitudes,
changes in
attitudes nothing remains quite the same.
With all of our running
and all of our cunning,
If we couldn't laugh, we would all go
insane.
These changes in latitudes, changes in
attitudes;
Nothing remains quite the same.
Through all of the
islands and all of the highlands,
If we couldn't laugh we would
all go insane
Reading departure signs in some big
airport
Reminds me of the places I've been.
Visions of good
times that brought
so much pleasue
makes me want to go back
again.
If it suddenly ended tomarrow,
I could somehow adjust
to the fall.
Good times and riches and son of a bitches,
I've
seen more than I can recall...(to chorus)
I think about Paris
when I'm high on red wine;
I wish I could jump on a plane.
And
so many nights I just dream of the ocean.
God, I wish I was
sailin' again.
Oh, yesturdays are over my shoulder,
So I can't
look back for too long.
There's just too much to see waiting in
front of me,
and I know that I just can't go wrong
with
these...(to chorus)
Nibblin' on sponge cake,
watchin' the sun bake;
All of
those tourists covered with oil.
Strummin' my six string on my
front porch swing.
Smell those shrimp--
They're beginnin' to
boil.
Wasted away again in Margaritaville,
Searchin' for
my lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there's a woman to
blame,
But I know it's nobody's fault.
Don't know
the reason,
Stayed here all season
With nothing to show but
this brand new tatoo.
But it's a real beauty,
A Mexican cutie,
how it got here
I haven't a clue.
Wasted away again in
Margaritaville,
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt.
Some
people claim that there's a woman to blame,
Now I think,-- hell
it could be my fault.
I blew out my flip flop,
Stepped on
a pop top;
Cut my heel, had to cruise on back home.
But
there's booze in the blender,
And soon it will render
That
frozen concoction that helps me hang on.
Wasted away again in
Margaritaville
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt.
Some
people claim that there's a woman to blame,
But I know, it's my
own damn fault.
Yes, and some people claim that there's a woman
to blame, And I know it's my own damn fault.
Now, I don't know, I don't know where I'm a gonna go
when the
volcano blow.
Let me say it now,
I don't know, I don't know
where I'm a gonna go
when the volcano blow.
Ground, she
movin' under me.
Tidal waves out on the sea.
Sulphur smoke up
in the sky.
Pretty soon we learn to fly
Chorus
Let me
hear you, now
I don't know, I don't know where I'm a gonna
go
when the volcano blow.
Let me hear you now.
I don't
know, I don't know where I'm a gonna go
when the volcano
blow.
My girl quickly say to me,
"Mon you better watch
your feet."
Lava come down soft and hot.
"You better lava me
now or lava me not.
Chorus
No time to count what I'm
worth,
cause I just left the planet Earth.
Where I go I hope
there's rhum.
Not to worry mon soon
come.
Chorus
But I don't want to land in New York
City,
I don't want to land in Mexico.
I don't want to land on
no Three Mile Island;
I don't want to see my skin
a-glow.
Don't want to land in Comanche Sky Park,
or in
Nashville, Tennessee.
I don't want to land in no San Juan airport
or
the Yukon Territory.
Don't want to land no San
Diego.
Don't want to land in no Buzzards Bay.
I don't want to
land on no Ayatolla.
I got nothin' more to
say.
Chorus
Tried to amend my carnivorous habits.
Made it nearly seventy
days,
Losin' weight without speed, eatin' sunflower
seeds,
Drinkin' lots of carrot juice and soakin' up
rays.
But at night I'd have these wonderful dreams
Some
kind of sensuous treat.
Not zucchini, fettucini, or bulgar
wheat,
But a big warm bun and a huge hunk of
meat.
Cheeseburger is paradise.
Heaven on earth with an
onion slice.
Not too particular, not too precise.
I'm just a
cheeseburger in paradise.
I like mine with lettuce and
tomato,
Heinz Fifty-seven and French fried potatoes.
Big
kosher pickle and a cold draft beer.
Well, good God Almighty,
which way do I steer
For my cheeseburger in
paradise.
Verse 2:
Heard about the oldtime sailor
men,
They eat the same thing again and again;
Warm beer and
bread they say could raise the dead.
Well, it reminds me of the
menu at a Holiday Inn.
But times have changed for sailors
these days.
When I'm in port I get what I need;
Not just
Havanas or banana or daiquiris,
But that American creation on
which I feed!
Cheeseburger is paradise medium rare with
mustard'd be nice
Not too particular, not too precise
I'm just
a cheeseburger in paradise.
I like mine with lettuce and
tomato
Heinz 57 and french fried potatoes
Big kosher pickle
and a cold draught beer
Well, good god Almighty which way do I
steer
For a cheeseburger in paradise
Makin' the best of
every virtue and vice.
Worth every damn bit of sacrifice
To
get a cheeseburger in paradise;
To be a cheeseburger in
paradise.
I'm just a cheeseburger in paradise.
Now they make new movies in old black and white,
With happy
endings, where nobody fights,
So if you find yourself in that
nostalgic rage,
Honey, jump right up and show your age.
I
wish I had a pencil-thin mustache,
the "Boston Blackie" kind, or
a
two-toned Ricky Ricardo jacket,
and an autographed
piture of Andy Divine.
Oh, I remember bein' buck toothed and
skinny
Writin' fan letters to Sky's niece Penny.
Oh, I wish I
had a pencil-thin mustache,
then I could solve some mysteries
too.
Oh it's Bandstand, Disneyland, growin up fast,
Drinkin'
on a fake I.D.
And Rama of the jungle was everyone's
Bawana,
But only jazz musicians were smokin marajuana.
Yeah, I
wish I had a pencil-thin mustache,
then I could solve some
mysteries too.
But then it's flat-top, dirty bop, copin' a
feel'
grubbin on the living room floor;
They send you off to
college to try to gain
a little knowledge,
But all you want to
do is learn how to score.
Yeah, but now I'm gettin' old, don't
wear underwear,
I don't go to church, and I don't cut my
hair;
But I can goto movies and see it all there,
Just the way
that it use to be.
That's why I wish I had a pencil-thin
mustache
the "Boston Blackie" kind, or a
two-toned Ricky
Ricardo jacket,
And an autographed picture of Andy
Divine.
Oh, I could be anyone I wanted to be,
Maybe suave
Eerol Flynn or the Sheik of Araby.
If I only had a pencil-thin
mustache,
then I could do some crusing too.
Yeah,
Brylcream, a little dab'll do yah,
Oh, I could do some crusing
too.
Headin' up to San Francisco
for the Labor Day weekend
show,
I've got my hush-puppies on,
I guess I never was meant
for
glitter rock and roll.
And honey I didn't
know
that I'd be missin' so.
(Chorus)
Come Monday
It'll be all right,
Come Monday I'll be holding you tight.
I
spent four lonely days in a brown L.A. haze
and I just want you
back by my side.
Yes it's been quite a summer,
rent-a-cars
and west bound trains.
And now your off on vacation,
somethin'
you tried to explain.
And darlin' I love you so that's
the
reason I just let you go.
Chorus
I can't help it
honey,
your that much a part of me now.
Remember the night in
Montana when
we said there'd be no room for doubt.
I hope
your enjoyin' the scen'ry,
I know that it's pretty up
there.
We can go hikin on Tuesday,
with you I'd walk
anywhere.
California has worn me quite thin,
I just can't wait
to see you again.
End Chorus