My head hurts, my feet stink and I don’t love Jesus by Jimmy Buffett

My head hurts, my feet stink and I don’t love Jesus
It’s that kind of mornin’
really was that kind of night
Tryin’ to tell myself that my
condition is improvin’ and if I don’t
die by Thursday I’ll be roarin’ Friday night

Went down to the snake pit
to drink a little beer
Listened to the juke box
Merle was comin’ in clear
All of a sudden I wasn’t alone
pickin’ country music with old Joe Bones
Duval Street was rockin’
my eyes they started poppin’
Because there she sat at the corner of the bar
as I broke another string on my old guitar
Someone call a cab
Lady won’t you pay my tab

(First Verse)

Got to get a little orange juice
And a Darvon for my head
I can’t spend all day
Baby, layin’ in the bed
I’m goin’ down to Fausto’s
to get some chocolate milk
Can’t spend my life in your sheets of silk
I’ve got to find my way
Crawl out and greet the day

(Repeat First Verse)

 The Captain And The Kid by Jimmy Buffett

I never use to miss the chance
to climb upon his knee and listen
to the many tales of life upon the sea

We’d go sailing back on barkentines and
talk of things he did, tomorrow just a
day away for the Captain and the Kid

His world had gone from sailing ships
to raking mom’s back yard
he never could adjust to land although
he tried so hard

We both were growing older then and
wiser with our years
that’s when I came to understand
the course his heart still steers

He died about a month ago
while winter filled the air
and though I cried, I was so proud
to love a man so rare

He’s somewhere on the ocean now
the place he ought to be
with one hand on the starboard rail
he’s waving back at me
For the Captain and this kid



Big Rig by Greg Taylor

If I was a road dog, baby
All of my songs were true
Reckon’ I’d like my whiskey drinkin’
a whole lot more than I do
But I don’t know about the good life, baby
Not so sure it’s for me
I’d much rather be home rollin’ with you
Than watching Tom Snyder on TV

I wish I was a big rig
Rollin on home to you
I wish I was a big rig
Big rig baby, rollin’ on home to you

Now I been to lots of parties
Spent my whole life in a bar
There’s a whole lot of good lookin’ women out there
Who think I am a star
Drinkin’ and a smokin’ ain’t really where I am
If I had my own two ways I’d be rollin’ home to Alabam

I wish I was a big rig
Rollin’ on home to you
I wish I was a big rig
A big rig baby, rollin’ on home to you

Now some day I’ll be better
My ramblin’ days will be through
I won’t have anymore gigs to play
I’ll be back home there with you
But meanwhile wait a minute
What’s that thing I see
It’s a good lookin’ woman with a bottle of Scotch
And she wants to go home with me

She’s lookin’ like a big rig
Rollin’ on home to you
I wish I was big rig, a big rig baby
Rollin’ on home to you
I wish I was a big rig
Rollin’ on home to you
I wish I was a big rig
Rollin’ on home to you



Defying Gravity by Jesse Winchester

“Like a solid relief pitcher, Jesse Winchester is a source of songs I return to again and again. I love the message in this song, simple and to the point. I never do dream I may fall-and if I do fall, what the hell.” - Jimmy

I live on a big round ball
I never do dream I may fall
And even one day if I do
Well I’ll jump up and smile back at you

I don’t even know where we are
They tell me were circling a star
Well I’ll take their word, I don’t know
But I’m dizzy so it may be so

I’m riding a big round ball
I never do dream I may fall
And even the high must lay low
But when I do fall I will be glad to go
Yes when I do fall I will be glad to go



Havana Daydreamin’ by Jimmy Buffett

“I read Far Tortuga by Peter Mathissen and fell in love with the description of the men on the turtle boat. I used them to create my own boat and my own destination. Five years after the song was written, I was singing it in the La Bodega Del Medio in Downtown Havana with the KGB, CIA, and Cuban secret police crowded around the bar trying to look normal-which goes to prove you better not dream too hard or long; your dreams just might come true.” - Jimmy

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 chopped 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’
Oh he’ll be dreamin’ his life away



Cliches by Jimmy Buffett

She’s got a ballpark figure
He’s got a ballpoint pen
Travel around for weeks at a time
Writing down descriptions of the places they been
She plays guitar but nothing fancy
With no intention of becoming a star
Only thing that’s bothering him these days
Is where he’s gonna find a good ten cent cigar

Cliches, good ways
Say what you mean, mean what you say

She never did make her debut
He never made it to class
She’s 86′d from the Chart Room
He’s 29 and pushin’ 30 real fast
They’re funny when they get to rockin’
Goin’ out for the night on the town
Takin’ polaroid pictures that are never in focus
Just to look at when they finally slow down
Full moon, so soon
Wishin’ every month of the year could be June

He’s always tuned into Star Trek
She’s always tuned into him
Hidin’ his cookies when he gets the munchies
Tryin’ hard just to keep the boy slim
Tonight they’re gonna go star gazing
And try to figure out which one they’re near
Try as they might I don’t think they’ll reach the height
You know you can’t get there from here

Full moon, so soon
Wishin’ every month of the year could be June
Cliches, good ways
Say what you mean, mean what you say
Just say what you mean, mean what you say



Something So Feminine About A Mandolin by Jimmy Buffett and Jane Slagsvol

It was late in the evenin’
just a few of us pickin’
but the lady she played
so easy and fine
And the chords that she strummed
were so tastefully clever
they planted this song in my mind

Cause there’s somethin’ so feminine
about a mandolin
the way that they feel
the way that they ring
Just to see slender fingers
movin’ so fluid
made this poor heart to sing

And when I get older and I have a daughter
I’ll teach her to sing, and play her my song
And I’ll tell her some stories I can barely remember
And hope that she will sing along

Maybe one day she’ll take a fancy to pickin’
‘Cause when that bug bites you
you live with the sting
And if she could just strum a few simple measures
She could make some young man sing

Cause there’s somethin’ so feminine
about a mandolin
The way that they feel, the way that they ring
And that evening in a pasture
somewhere near Austin
That mandolin made me sing
Her mandolin made me sing



Kick It In Second Wind by Jimmy Buffett and Jane Slagsvol

“This came out of those days at the Troubadour and the famous “third show.” I don’t remember too many of them, as you can imagine the state of a band that takes the stage at two in the morning. The third show at the Troubadour was sort of the “Pork Chop Hill” of rock’n roll-some of us made it, some of us didn’t. I guess I was lucky.” - Jimmy

One o’clock in the mornin’
people pilin’ into the door
Drinks are still comin’ in and
I’m barely hummin’ and the
audience is screamin’ for more
Somebody’s locked in the bathroom
manager can’t find the key
I pity that man but from where I stand
it’s lookin like a pris’ner is me

Chorus
So won’t you kick it in second wind
we got two more hours to go
Is there anymore hope of scorin’ anymore coke
and we’ve still got to do another show

My mind started to wander
In the middle of the second song
Dreamin’ I was at sea, just my baby and me
when the words started coming out wrong
Waitresses are pickin’ up glasses
The bartender screamed last call
When I looked to my right I saw a terrible sight
And the bass man took a bad fall

Chorus

Instrumental

It’s three o’clock in the mornin’
runnin’ on adrenalin
What I’m tryin to say is that tomorrow’s the day
And we’ve got to do it over again

Chorus



This Hotel Room by Steve Goodman

This hotel room’s got a lot of stuff
A laundry bag and a shoe shine cloth
Thirty-two hangers and a touch-tone phone
Well a light that comes on when I’m not home
I ain’t home, I ain’t home
You better leave a message cause I ain’t home

They got an air conditioner for when I’m hot
A radiator for when I’m not
Two big chairs sittin’ side by side
With a Holy bible and a TV guide
TV guide, TV guide, great God o’ mighty
It’s a TV guide

I got a second story view from curb to curb
I got a sign that reads "Do not disturb"
A monogram towel and a bucket of ice
A chest of drawers and a mirror that lies
Mirror that lies, mirror that lies,
That couldn’t be me in the gorilla disguise

They got a room service menu for food and drinks
A porcelain thrown and an aluminum sink
Two big pillows to rest my head
A magic fingers and a king size bed
Put in a quarter, turn out the light
Magic fingers makes you feel alright
Feel alright, feel alright
Magic fingers makes you feel alright

Oh this ole’ hotel’s alright with me
They pay the postage if you loose the key
This hotel has got a lot of stuff
But I do believe I have had enough
Call my baby said, don’t you pout
I’m packin’ my bags and I’m checking out
Just as soon as you hang up the telephone
Stick a candle in the window I’m comin’ home
Comin’ home, comin home
Stick a candle in the window, I’m comin’ home