Like the rustlers at the turn of last century

No one could quite understand

Our passion and fire and wonder lust eye

Poseidon’s and rum in our hands

So stop signs ‘tween here and Antiga

We all have to choose our own vice

Compulsive conformist or cooperate reformist

Or rum with cinnamon spice 

ChorusWe’re just little dirt cowboys washed off by the ocean

Living our lives in a circular motion

‘Stead of dawning a tie for the cooperate regime

we untie at dawn and sail to our dreams

There are soldiers of fortune and fortunate soldiers

Some never find their way home

There’re some with desire, some we admire

And others you just leave alone

How we compare to the soldiers so brave

I’m not really sure that we do

But we have passion and fight and do what is right

We just try not to step in the poo!

Chorus

BridgeSingin’ ho ho don’t blow us aground

If we see a coral head we sail around

Ho ho we don’t need steam

We’ll hoist up our canvass and sail to our dreams

We’re just little dirt cowboys washed off by the ocean