As some people call me a son of a bitch
Not as rich
I got the itch
After the son of the son of a sailor sang
Nothing was left open but ihop pancakes for a midnight hang
Everyone was wearing tie dyed Jimmy Buffett t shirts and an idea sprang
Not a song about margaritas
Not cheeseburgers, no paradise angiitis
Not drunk and a midnight screw to light us
Up higher than just beaches and steel drum partitas
A rhyme of after party at the house of pancakes
Many a late night out have ended gathered around tables at the h.o.p.
Always plenty of people of all shapes
Up and down from the cream of the crop
Warm maple syrup, only brought from a server
All kinds of berries and whipped cream
May end up needing a life preserver
Send you to bed sleeping a not so sweet dream
Jimmy, Ga Ga, Taylor you top the charts
Join my new song
Fill in the parts
You all have great big hearts
I pound the gong
Ladies may wear a thong
Everyone knows all along
Jimmy Buffett music can never go wrong
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