Tropics

The Tropics

So you’ve come to the Tropics
And heard all you had to do
Was sit in the shade of a coconut glade
While the pesos roll in to you
They told you that at the border
Did you get your directions straight
Now hear what it did to another kid
Before you decide your fate
I started out to be honest
With everything on the square
But a boy can’t fool with the golden rule
In a crowd that won’t play fair
It was a case of winning in a dirty race
Or dying with a losing hand
My only hope was to steal the dope
And the horse of another man

(Chorus)
The Tropics, they’re worse than the habit
The burning, blazing sun
You break away and swear you’ll stay
But the Tropics call and back you come

I pulled a deal down in Brazil
In an Inca silver mine
Before they found it was salted ground
I was safe in Argentine
I ran a weight in reefer freight’Round Cuba into the Keys
I gave my soul in pirate’s gold
Trying to buy myself free
They called me a soldier of fortune
But I sold myself like a whore
Peddling booze to the Santa Cruz
And Winchester 44’s
Made afraid by my drunken aid
The bastards came roaring down
And left in a shivering, blazing mass
A tiny border town

(Chorus)
The Tropics, they’re worse than the habit
The burning, blazing sun
You break away and swear you’ll stay
But the Tropics call and back you come

I was next in charge of a smuggler’s barge
In the Straits of Yucatan
But she sunk in a hole off Mexico
One night in a hurricane
I got to shore on a broken oar
In the filthy shrieking dark
And the other two of the good ship’s crewe
Became a banquet for the shark
On a fiery hot, flea-ridden cot
I was dying with the yellow jack
Alone in the sun and damn near done
She found me and pulled me back
She came like the Virgin Maria
And opened my fevered eyes
Upon me shone a brand new dawn
As I turned my face to the sky

(Chorus)
The Tropics, they’re worse than the habit
The burning, blazing sun
You break away and swear you’ll stay
But the Tropics call and back you come

There was pride and grace in her brown young face
For hers was the blood of kings
In her eyes shone the glory of empires gone
But she was wearing the devil’s ring
You see these punctures in my arm
You know what they mean
They were left right there by my lady fair
Ms. Morphine
I was dealt the eights and aces
Some call the dead man’s hand
God knows I’m not the one to blame
For I’m only a mortal man
Wherever you play, whatever the way
For stakes that are large or small
The claws of the tropics will gather your pile
And the dealer gets it all

(Chorus)
The Tropics, they’re worse than the habit
The burning, blazing sun
You break away and swear you’ll stay
But the Tropics call and back you come