| C | |
| Nibblin' on sponge cake, watchin' the sun bake |
| G | |
| All of those tourist covered with | oil |
| Strummin' my six string, on my front porch swing |
| C | |
| Smell those shrimp they're beginnin' to | boil |
| F | G | C | G | |
| CHORUS: | Wastin' a | way again in Marga | rita-ville |
| F | G | C | G | |
| Searchin' for my | lost shaker of | salt |
| F | G | C | G | F | |
| Some people | claim that there's a | wo | man to | blame |
| G | C | |
| But I | know it's nobody's | fault |
| C | |
| I don't know the reason, I stayed here all season |
| G | |
| Nothin' to show but this brand new | tatoo |
| But it's a real beautie, a Mexican cutie |
| C | |
| But how it got here I haven't a | clue |
| CHORUS |
| C | |
| I blew out my flip-flop, stepped on a pop-top |
| G | |
| Cut my heel had to cruise on back | home |
| But there's booze in the blender, and soon it will render |
| C | |
| That frozen concotion that helps me hang | on |
| CHORUS |
| F | G | C | G | F | |
| Some people | say that there's a | wo | man to | blame |
| G | C | |
| But I | know it's my own damn | fault |