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Nibblin' on sponge cake,
watchin' the sun bake;
All of those tourists covered with oil.
Strummin' my six string on my front porch swing.
Smell those shrimp--
They're beginnin' to boil.
Wasted away again in Margaritaville,
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame,
But I know it's nobody's fault.
Don't know the reason,
Stayed here all season
With nothing to show but this brand new tatoo.
But it's a real beauty,
A Mexican cutie, how it got here
I haven't a clue.
Wasted away again in Margaritaville,
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame,
Now I think,-- hell it could be my fault.
Old men in tanktops,
Cruising the gift shops,
Checking out chicitas down by the shore,
They dream about weight loss
Wishing they could be their own boss,
Those 3 day vacations become such a bore.
I blew out my flip flop,
Stepped on a pop top;
Cut my heel, had to cruise on back home.
But there's booze in the blender,
And soon it will render
That frozen concoction that helps me hang on.
Wasted away again in Margaritaville
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame,
But I know, it's my own damn fault.
Yes, and some people claim that there's a woman to blame
And I know it's my own damn fault.
Alan Jackson
Margaritaville
Margaritaville
Nibblin' on sponge cake,
watchin' the sun bake;
All of those tourists covered with oil.
Strummin' my six string on my front porch swing.
Smell those shrimp--
They're beginnin' to boil.
Wasted away again in Margaritaville,
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame,
But I know it's nobody's fault.
Don't know the reason,
Stayed here all season
With nothing to show but this brand new tatoo.
But it's a real beauty,
A Mexican cutie, how it got here
I haven't a clue.
Wasted away again in Margaritaville,
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame,
Now I think,-- hell it could be my fault.
Old men in tanktops,
Cruising the gift shops,
Checking out chicitas down by the shore,
They dream about weight loss
Wishing they could be their own boss,
Those 3 day vacations become such a bore.
I blew out my flip flop,
Stepped on a pop top;
Cut my heel, had to cruise on back home.
But there's booze in the blender,
And soon it will render
That frozen concoction that helps me hang on.
Wasted away again in Margaritaville
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame,
But I know, it's my own damn fault.
Yes, and some people claim that there's a woman to blame
And I know it's my own damn fault.
