You got fins to the left, fins to the right, and you're the only bait in town. You got fins to the left, fins to the right, and you're the only girl in town. She's savin' up all of her money.
April 28, 2006
Wants to head south in May; Maybe roll in the sand with a rock'n'roll man, Somewhere down Montserrat way. But the money's good in the season; Helps to lighten her load. Boys keep her high as the months go by. She's gettin' postcards from the road. Chorus Sailed off to Antigua. It took her three days on a boat. Lookin' for some peace and quiet; Maybe keep her dreams afloat.
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But now she feels like a remora, 'cause the school's still close at hand. Just behind the reef are the big white teeth of the sharks that can swim on the land. 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.
I - Early modern ventures
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. A Pirate Looks At Forty. You've seen it all, you've seen it all. Watch the men who rode you, Switch from sails to steam.
Let’s Pretend This Never Happened
And in your belly you hold the treasure that few have ever seen, most of them dreams, Most of them dreams. Yes, I am a pirate two hundred years too late.
The cannons don't thunder there's nothin' to plunder I'm an over forty victim of fate Arriving too late, arriving too late. I've done a bit of smugglin' I've run my share of grass. I made enough money to buy Miami, But I pissed it away so fast, Never meant to last, never meant to last. I have been drunk now for over two weeks, I passed out and I rallied and I sprung a few leaks, But I've got to stop wishin', Got to go fishin', I'm down to rock bottom again.
Just a few friends, just a few friends. Instrumental I go for younger women, lived with several awhile And though I ran away, they'll come back one day.
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And still could manage a smile It just takes awhile, just takes awhile. Mother, mother ocean, after all these years I've found My occupational hazard being my occupations just not around. I feel like I've drowned, Gonna head uptown. 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 tattoo. But it's a real beauty, A Mexican cutie, how it got here I haven't a clue. 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. Come Monday.
And honey I didn't know that I'd be missin' so. This is from a band from Kentucky who have had lots of number one hits on the Billboard Alternative Rock charts, including this song. It's off their album Tell Me I'm Pretty. There's only a quick mention of California. Louis, California Blue eyes, yeah she's comin' for ya Land of Mary, Charm City Oh lord, wish she was my baby You know she'll drive you crazy Yeah she's coming for ya No, she don't mess around No, she don't mess around Ahhhhh, oh no Ahhhhh, oh no Ahhhhh, oh no No, she don't mess around No, she don't mess around The heat is rising and only getting hotter, ready to blow I think I'll pour myself a glass of water, let it flow She'll show you what she's made of Yeah she's comin' for ya She's gonna try to break ya Yeah she's comin' for ya No, she don't mess around No, she don't mess around Ahhhhh, oh no Ahhhhh, oh no Ahhhhh, oh no No, she don't mess around No, she don't mess around Downtown L.
His wah-wah slide on Crazy Mama still gets to me after 40 years. This is from Cale's "Grasshopper" album released in Much of downtown L. Santa Cruz. Just to give a little music to boo me away Hey J. San Francisco Fan.
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Cab Calloway was a popular jazz and scat singer, dancer, and bandleader from New York, known as the "Hi-de-ho" man, which comes from the lyrics to his most famous song "Minnie the Moocher. This is a slow blues released in Cowboys From Hollywood. The lyrics are simple, just one line repeated a dozen times, in true quirky Camper fashion: "Aren't y'all cowboys from Hollywood?
Camper Van Beethoven. Dockweiler Beach. From "El Camino Real" released in I Live in L.
From "El Camino Real" released in "She comes in like a star, wearing jewellery and fur With her own entourage, hanger-onners in clogs From some small town in Spain, it's never explained. Sufficiently Or the security I live in L. Come and see me someday. You can stay at my house. I've got plenty of space.
I live in L. Come and see me someday boy If you wanna have a good time A good time with me. Black SUVs in the drive, tinted windows and guards Cowboy boots and shaved heads, Italian suits, tattood necks The party rages inside, but its never explained La Frontera plates Oh boy I hope it's not too late.
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