Migration 
By: Jimmy Buffett
1974

C
Lookin' back at my background
                 G7
Tryin' to figure out how I ever got here

Some things are still a mystery to me
      C                  C7
While others are much too clear
         F   
I'm just  livin' in the sunshine
     C                     Am
Stay contented most of the time
      D7              
Yeah, listenin' to Murphy, Walker, and Willis
                            G    G7
Sing me their Texas rhymes

Now most of the people who retire in Florida 
Are wrinkled and they lean on a crutch
And mobile homes are smotherin' my keys
I hate those bastards so much
I wish a summer squall would blow them 
All the way up to fantasy land

Am                D7                              
    Yeah, they're ugly and square, they don't belong here
                  F          G7      C
    They looked a lot better as beer cans

Chorus:
               Am  
      Yeah and that's why it's still a mystery to me
          G          
      Why some people live like they do
      Am    
      So many nice things happenin' out there
           D7                  G
      They never even seen the clues
              F                  
      Oh, but we're doin' fine, we can travel and rhyme
        C                      Am
      I know we been doin' our part
            F                    C
      Got a Caribbean soul I can barely control
               G7                      Am       C
      And some Texas hidden here in my heart

Well, now I might have joined the Merchant Marine 
If I hadn't learned how to sing
And on top of all that I got married too early
'Cost me much more than a ring
But now those crazy days are over 
Just gotta learn from the wrong things you've done
I came off the rebound, started lookin' around
Figured out it's time to have a little fun

(repeat chorus)
      
Well, now if I ever live to be an old man
I'm gonna sail down to Martinique
I'm gonna buy me a sweat-stained Bogart suit
And an African parakeet
And then I'll sit him on my shoulder
And open up my trusty old mind
I gonna teach him how to cuss, teach him how to fuss
And pull the cork out of a bottle of wine

(repeat chorus, then)
            F                    C
Yeah, got a Caribbean soul I can barely control 
         G7                      F       G     C    C7
And some Texas hidden here in my heart

Enjoy!