Mother, mother …

Mother, mother ocean, I have heard you call
Wanted to sail upon your waters since I was three feet tall
You’ve seen it all, you’ve seen it all

Watched the men who rode you switch from sails to steam
And in your belly you hold the treasures few have ever seen
Most of em dream, most of em dream

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 smuggling, 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

And I have been drunk now for over two weeks
I passed out and I rallied and I sprung a few leaks
But I got stop wishin, got to go fishin
Down to rock bottom again
Just a few friends, just a few friends

I go for younger women, lived with several awhile
Though I ran em away, they’d come back one day
Still could manage to smile
Just takes a while, just takes a while

Mother, mother ocean, after all the years I’ve found
My occupational hazard being my occupations just not around
I feel like I’ve drowned, gonna head uptown

I feel like I’ve drowned, gonna head uptown

Jimmy Buffet 1974

Send “A Pirate Looks

Like many people I think JB wrote that song with me in mind, I guess that why he so popular because he has written so many songs that people can relate too.  Now as 40 is spinning into 50 “Older but not up” still remains my motto and is emblazoned even more boldly on my battle flag.  My only concession to growing older is to practice a little more self restraint like I probably should have when I was young, dumb and bullet proof and Hangovers were fixed by a pint of chocolate milk, a big greasy cheeseburger with a thick slice of raw onion, an ice cold beer and a couple of aspirins not in that order.  Root Boy Slim died long ago and so has boogieing till I puke and rallying again.

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