A New Poem by James Buffet

- This poem was adapted to the written word by yours truly, Eli Johnson (apartment 255). I hope you have been enjoying these weekly poetic adaptations in your mailbox. I think we have a good thing going in our apartment building, and I look forward to meeting each of you at least once. Note: if you no longer want to receive my poems, please slip a note under my door, and don't do what Kyle Cooper and Noah Horowitz did. Fuck you guys. You're still getting my poems.

- This poem is entitled "Margaritaville" by minor West Antillean poet James Buffet, who is perhaps the best poet of our generation.

- It should be read aloud by James Earl Jones, but if you can't get him to do it, you can do it in his voice. If you don't know who James Earl Jones is, just think of Darth Vader, but don't make the sounds of Vader's deep robot breathing when you read it. Just read it without the breathing. If you've heard this poem before, and you happen to be familiar with the melody that it goes with, try to forget about the song because the words in poetry form are much more powerful without the notes. If you can't help singing the tune, please try to sing it in Vader's voice, which will help to you to grasp the deepness of this poem. Note: I am building an online James Earl Jones voice-simulator, which I will release shortly. Please contact me if you wish to subscribe. More to come!

- Special thanks to lyrics.com and Todd next door who told me about the website.

- I think this is a very special poem with many hidden and secret meanings. I believe James Buffet should become our next US Poet Laureate. He has many good poems and I will be working hard to adapt many more to the page. Enjoy.

"Margaritaville"
by James Buffet
adapted by Eli Johnson

He nibbled on sponge cake,
watchin' the sun bake;
All of those tourists covered with oil.
Strummin' his six string on his front porch swing.
Smell those shrimp--
They're beginnin' to boil.

Wasted away again in Margaritaville,
Searchin' for his lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame,
But he knows it's nobody's fault.

Don't know the reason,
He stayed here all season
With nothing to show but this brand new tatoo.
But it's a real beauty,
A Mexican cutie, how it got here
He hasn't a clue.

Wasted away again in Margaritaville,
Searchin' for his lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame,
Now he thinks-- hell it could be my fault.

He blew out his flip flop,
Stepped on a pop top;
Cut his heel, had to cruise on back home.
But there's booze in the blender,
And soon it will render
That frozen concoction that helps him hang on.

Wasted away again in Margaritaville
Searchin' for his lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame,
But he knows, it's his own damn fault.

Yes, oh yes, and some people claim
That there's a woman to blame,
And he knows it's his own damn fault.