Nibblin' on sponge cake,
Watchin' the sun bake
All of you parrotheads covered with oil,
Strummin' my six-string
Smell those shrimp, hey, they're beginnin' to boil. (Bubble, bubble, bubble, bubble)
Wasted away again in Margaritaville,
Searching for my lost shaker of salt. (Salt! Salt! Salt!)
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame
And I know this is somebody's fault.
I don't know the reason
I stayed here all season
With nothin' to show but that brand new tattoo,
But it's a real beauty
How it got here I haven't a clue.
Chorus
Old men in tank tops
Cruising the gift shops,
Checkin' out chiquitas down by the shore.
They dream about weight loss,
Those three day vacations become such a bore/
Chorus
I blew out my flip-flop,
Stepped on a pop-top,
I broke my leg twice, had to limp on back home,
But there's booze in the blender
That frozen concoction that helps me hang on. (Hang on! Hang on! Hang on!)
Wasted away again in Margaritaville,
Searching for my lost shaker of salt. (Where's the salt? Where's the goddam salt?!)
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame
But I know it's my own damn fault .
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame.
I know It's my own damn fault.