Boat drinks. Waitress, I need two more boat drinks. Then I'm headin south 'fore my dream shrinks. I gotta go where it's warm. - Jimmy Buffett

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 he lives in the islands, fishes the pilin's
And drinks his green label each day,
He's writing his memoirs and losing his hearing,
But he don't care what most people say.
Through eighty-six years of perpetual motion,
If he likes you he'll smile then he'll say,
Jimmy, some of it's magic, some of it's tragic,
But I had a good life all the way.

He went to Paris, looking for answers
To questions that bothered him so.
He was impressive, young and aggressive,
Saving the world on his own.
But the warm Summer breezes,
The French wines and cheeses
Put his ambition at bay.
And Summers and Winters
Scattered like splinters,
And four or five years slipped away.