Wednesday, June 2, 2010


(to Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville)

No more can I take
Radio’s soul mate
Tired of Buffet’s tunage of gold
Help me, come free me
From this old ditty
Thirty years, it’s beginning to mold

Listenin’ to stations play his Margaritaville
Can’t you find more songs inside your vault?
Ain’t it a shame,
Can’t you find more songs to play?
Can’t ya go
Find more songs that rock?

I find that it’s pleasin’
This shiny sun season
Lovin’ the beach, sea, and summertime moon
But here comes a drunk whack
He’s one shy a six pack
Chugging a beer to that seventies tune

Grating away again to Margaritaville
Blaring from the large speakers on yachts
No way to tame
The crowds of people who sway
If they’re high
I hope they get caught.

Tequila with salt top
Triple sec, one shot
Lemon squeeze or some lime juice you own
When I hear the offender
The tune I remember
I’ll pour me a tall one and play the Ramones

Can’t get away, my friend, from Margaritaville
The three chords my old mem’ry should toss
It’s so ingrained
I fear a blood clot in brain
It’s an ode
To taste that’s been lost

It’s so ingrained
Will all the stations refrain?
But we know
It’s all Jimmy’s fault.

Copyright 2010 Warren Baker

No comments:

Post a Comment