
South Coast of Texas Guy Clark
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[Verse 1]
The south coast of Texas, that's a thin slice of life
It's salty and hard it, it is stern as a knife
Where the wind is for blowing up hurricanes
For showing the snakes how to swim and the trees how to lean
[Chorus]
And the shrimpers and their ladies are out in the beer joints
Drinking 'em down 'fore they sail with the dawn
They're bound for the Mexican Bay of Campeche
And the deckhands are singing "Adios Jole Blon"
[Verse 2]
Now there's snowbirds in search of that sunshine and nightlife
And fond of greasing palms down the beach as they're going
Ah, this living on the edge of the waters of the world
Demands the dignity of whooping cranes and the likes of Gilbert Roland
[Chorus]
And the shrimpers and their ladies are out in the beer joints
Drinking 'em down 'fore they sail with the dawn
They're bound for the Mexican Bay of Campeche
And the deckhands are singing "Adios Jole Blon"
[Verse 3]
In the cars of my youth, how I tore through those sand dunes
And cut up my tires on them oyster shell roads
"Ah but nothing is forever," say the old men in the shipyards
Turning trees into shrimp boats, hell, I guess they ought to know
The south coast of Texas, that's a thin slice of life
It's salty and hard it, it is stern as a knife
Where the wind is for blowing up hurricanes
For showing the snakes how to swim and the trees how to lean
[Chorus]
And the shrimpers and their ladies are out in the beer joints
Drinking 'em down 'fore they sail with the dawn
They're bound for the Mexican Bay of Campeche
And the deckhands are singing "Adios Jole Blon"
[Verse 2]
Now there's snowbirds in search of that sunshine and nightlife
And fond of greasing palms down the beach as they're going
Ah, this living on the edge of the waters of the world
Demands the dignity of whooping cranes and the likes of Gilbert Roland
[Chorus]
And the shrimpers and their ladies are out in the beer joints
Drinking 'em down 'fore they sail with the dawn
They're bound for the Mexican Bay of Campeche
And the deckhands are singing "Adios Jole Blon"
[Verse 3]
In the cars of my youth, how I tore through those sand dunes
And cut up my tires on them oyster shell roads
"Ah but nothing is forever," say the old men in the shipyards
Turning trees into shrimp boats, hell, I guess they ought to know
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