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

Might 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.



Roll with the punches

Play all of his hunches

Made 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 muumuus

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.



They're tryin' to drink all the punches

They all may lose their lunches

Tryin' to cram lost years into five or six says

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