Music World
 
Find Artists:
 
 
 
Russian versionSwitch to Russian 
Jimmy Buffett




Music World  →  Lyrics  →  J  →  Jimmy Buffett  →  Albums  →  Son Of A Son Of A Sailor

Jimmy Buffett Album


Son Of A Son Of A Sailor (1978)
1978
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett

As the son of a son of a sailor
I went out on the sea for adventure
Expanding the 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 learned much from both of their styles

Chorus:
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 greats 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 tight 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 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

. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett

I woke up in a strange room
I'd never seen before
Weird paintin's on the walls
Mirrors on the ceiling
I bolted for the door

Lookin' for my rentacar
Was the Cordoba blue or red
Tryin' to remember where I put the keys
Tryin' to remember what I said

Chorus:
I pushed the fool button
My night went haywire
I pushed the fool button
Set my brain on fire

Now I was sittin' in the corner of a very laid back bar
A little three piece band playin' on the stand
Not knowin' what lay in store
In a flash a man with a hat and a harmonica stormed the stage
The crowd went berserk, the band said what a jerk
As he went into a blues rampage

Chorus:
It was a fool palace
Double knit on parade
They pushed the fool button
As the skinny boy played and played

Push it, push it, push it

Try to make a point of protectin' the innocent
But none of them can be found
It can happen anytime
Happen anyplace
It can happen in your own home town

If you don't believe my words
Or think my story's true
Get a bottle of rum and a Eskatrol
And watch the same thing happen to you

Chorus:
We'll push the fool button
I'll meet you in the bar
We'll push the fool button
Where everyone's a star

(Jimmy pushed the fool button)
(He pushed it like a fool, Bubba)
(Pushin' like a fool)
(Pushed the button like a fool)

(Pushed the fool button)
(Pushed it like a fool)
(Pushed the button like a fool)

. . .


By: Keith Sykes

Given my life for songs that I sing
Matter of fact, I've given everything
Time has come to not make a sound
Time has come to lay my burdens down
Whoa oh oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
Whoa oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
It's come from behind
Now is the time
For the last line (last line)

Managed to keep some friends on my side
To live through the times of the rumors and lies
Now it's time to rest my heart
Let some other innocent fool take my part
Whoa oh oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
Whoa oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
It's come from behind
Now is the time
For the last line (last line)

( saxophone solo)

Whoa oh oh oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
Whoa oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
It's come from behind
Now it's the time
For the last line (last line)

So don't pay me no mind, I'm walkin' away
You'll see me again on some other day
You'll see me again, I'll be ready to go
And pour out my songs with my heart and my soul

Whoa oh oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
Whoa oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
It's come from behind
Now is the time
For the last line (last line)
Yes it's come from behind
Now is the time
For the last line (last line)
Ah the last line (last line)

. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett

You got your Tony Lama's on your jeans pressed tight
You take a few tokes make you feel alright
Rockin' and a rollin' on a Livingston Saturday Night

Pickup's washed and you just got paid
With any luck at all you might even get laid
'Cause they're pickin' and a kickin' on a Livingston Saturday night

So won't you listen to the sound of the hot country band
Boot heels a' shufflin' on the dance floor sound
Sing a song, play some pong, shoot a little pool
Hittin' on the honeys right outta high school
Fifteen may get ya twenty, that's all right
'Cause they'll be rockin' and a rollin' on a Livingston Saturday night

(alright Timmy...)

Whoa listen to the sound of the hot country band
Boot heels a shufflin' on the dance floor sound
Hum a song, play some pong, eat a deviled egg
Temperature is risin' better pop another keg
Fifteen may get ya twenty, that's all right
'Cause they'll be rockin' and a rollin' on a Livingston Saturday night

(where's that harpoon man...)

Whoa ya gotta listen to the sound of the hot country band
Boot heels a shufflin' on the dance floor sound
Sing some songs, play some pong, eat a deviled egg
Temperature is risin' better pop another keg
Fifteen may get ya twenty, that's all right
'Cause they'll be rockin' and a rollin' on a Livingston Saturday night
Yeah I say they'll be rockin' and a rollin' on a Livingston Saturday night
One more time they'll be rockin' and a rollin' on a Livingston Saturday night

. . .


By: Keith Sykes

I sat there on the coast of Marseilles
My thoughts came by like wind through my hand
How good it'd be to feel you again
How good it'd be to feel that way again

Would you be remembering me?
I ask that question time and again
The answer came and haunted me so
I would not want to think it again
No I would not want to think it again

You make it so hard to forget
I haven't stopped lovin' you yet

(instrumental)

You make it so hard to forget
I haven't stopped lovin' you yet

When I left the coast of Marseilles
I hadn't done what I'd come to do
Spent all the money I'd saved
Still did not get over you
No I still did not get over you

. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett

There's a cowboy in the jungle
And he looks so out of place
With his shrimpskin boots and his cheap cheroots
And his skin as white as paste

Headin' south to Paraguay
Where the Gauchos sing and shout
Now he's stuck in Porto Bello
Since his money all ran out
So he hangs out with the sailors
Night and day they're raisin' hell
And his original destination's just another
Story that he loves to tell

With no plans for the future
He still seems in control
From a bronco ride to a ten foot tide
He just had to learn to roll

Chorus:
Roll with the punches
Play all of his hunches
Make the best of whatever came his way
What he lacked in ambition
He made up with intuition
Plowing straight ahead come what may

Steel band in the distance
And their music floats across the bay
While American women in moomoos
Talk about all the things they did today
And their husbands quack about fishing
As they slug those rum drinks down
Discussing who caught what and who sat on his butt
But it's the only show in town.

Chorus:
They're tryin' to drink all the punches
They all may lose their lunches
Tryin' to cram lost years into five or six days
Seems that blind ambition erased their intuition
Plowin' straight ahead come what may.

I don't want to live on that kind of island
No I don't want to swim in a roped off sea
Too much for me, too much for me
I've got to be where the wind and the water are free.

Alone on a midnight passage
I can count the falling stars
While the Southern Cross and the satellites
They remind me of where we are
Spinning around in circles
Living it day to day
And still twenty four hours may be sixty good years
It's still not that long a stay.

Chorus:
We've gotta roll with the punches
Learn to play all of our hunches
Makin' the best of whatever comes your way
Forget that blind ambition
And learn to trust your intuition
Plowin' straight ahead come what may
And there's a cowboy in the jungle

. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett

She said I can't go back to America soon
So goddamn cold it's gonna snow until June
Yeah, they're freezin' up in Buffalo stuck in their cars
And I'm lyin' here 'neath the sun and the stars

Customs man tells her that she's gotta leave
She's got a plan hidden up her shrewd sleeve
Wants to find her a captain, a man of strong mind
And any direction he blows will be fine

Chorus:
Please don't say manana if you don't mean it
I have heard those words for so very long
Don't try to describe the ocean if you've never seen it
Don't ever forget that you just may wind up being wrong

Tried and I tried but I don't understand
Never seemed to work out the way I had it planned
Hangin' out at a marina when Steve Martin called
Singin' anybody there really want to get small

But women and water are in short supply
There's not enough dope for us all to get high
I hear it gets better, that's what they say
As soon as we sail on to Cane Garden Bay

Chorus:
Please don't say manana if you don't mean it
I have heard your lines for so very long
Don't try to describe the scenery if you've never seen it
Don't ever forget that you just may wind up in my song

-- Spoken: "Alright let's reggae reefers!"

Called all my friends on those cheap nightly rates
Sure was good to talk to the old United States
While the lights of St. Thomas lie twenty miles west
I see General Electric's still doing their best

I got to head this boat south pretty soon
New album's old and I'm fresh out of tunes
But I know that I'll get 'em, I know that they'll come
Through the people and places and Caldwoods Rum

Chorus:
So please don't say manana if you don't mean it (don't mean it)
I have done your lines for so very long
Don't try to describe a Kiss concert if you've never seen it
Don't ever forget that you just may wind up being gonged

Coda:
And I hope Anita Bryant never ever does one of my songs
No no no

. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett

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 had these wonderful dreams
Some kind of sensuous treat
Not zuchinni, fettucini or bulghar wheat
But a big warm bun and a huge hunk of meat

Chorus:
Cheeseburger in paradise (paradise)
Heaven on earth with an onion slice (paradise)
Not too particular not too precise (paradise)
I'm just a cheeseburger in paradise

Heard about the old time sailor men
They eat the same thing again and again
Warm beer and bread they said could raise the dead
Well it reminds me of the menu at a Holiday Inn

Times have changed for sailors these days
When I'm in port I get what I need
Not just Havanas or bananas or daiquiris
But that American creation on which I feed

Chorus:
Cheeseburger in paradise (paradise)
Medium rare with mustard 'be nice (paradise)
Heaven on earth with an onion slice (paradise)
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 draft beer
Well good God Almighty which way do I steer for my

Chorus:
Cheeseburger in paradise (paradise)
Makin' the best of every virtue and vice (paradise)
Worth every damn bit of sacrifice (paradise)
To get a cheeseburger in paradise
To be a cheeseburger in paradise
I'm just a cheeseburger in paradise

Coda:
I like mine with lettuce and tomato
Heinz 57 and french fried potatoes
Big kosher pickle and a cold draft beer
Well good God Almighty which way do I steer for my

. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett

Disembarking at Duvalier Airport
Seeking transportation to town
As the purple ink dried on his passport
He could still feel the eyes look around

"Messieur ou y est casino?" [ Do you know where the casino is Sir? ]
Spoke to the cabbie and smiled
Driver replied "Vieux ou noveaux." [ Old or new? ]
As he motioned the dark man inside

Business in Aruba concluded
He now had a little money to spend
That's how I came to meet my African friend

We were rolling the bones several hours
Conversing as most gamblers do
We were calling on all of our powers
Hopin' to see the night through

But not approving at all of our winnings
Pit boss he tugged at his sleeve
Through the whole thing my new friend was grinning
When he motioned it's time we should leave

With our night at the tables behind us
We were ready just to do it again
That's when I came to know my African friend

But I woke up on the steps of a whorehouse
Soldier told me I'd better leave
As I stumbled to find me a taxi
I saw a note pinned to my sleeve

"It was a pleasure and a hell of an evenin'
Truly was our night to win.
But the authorities insist on my leaving
Take care my American friend."

With my weekend at Haiti concluded
I now had a little money to spend
That's when I came to meet my African friend
That's how I came to know another good friend

. . .


blog comments powered by Disqus



© 2011 Music World. All rights reserved.