There's a cowboy in the jungle
  And he looks so out of place
  With his shrimpskin boots and his cheap Cheroots
  And his skin as white as paste
  
  Headin' south to Paraguay
  Where the gauchos sing and shout
  Now he's stuck in Porto Bello
  Since his money all ran out
  So he hangs out with the sailors
  Might and day they're raisin' hell
  And his original destination's just another
  Story that he loves to tell.
  
  With no plans for the future
  He still seems in control
  From a bronco ride to a ten foot tide
  He just had to learn to roll.
  
  Roll with the punches
  Play all of his hunches
  Made the best of whatever came his way
  What he lacked in ambition
  He made up with intuition
  Plowing straight ahead come what may.
  
  Steel band in the distance
  And their music floats across the bay
  While American women in muumuus
  Talk about all the things they did today
  And their husbands quack about fishing
  As they slug those rum drinks down
  Discussing who caught what
  and who sat on his butt
  But it's the only show in town.
  
  They're tryin' to drink all the punches
  They all may lose their lunches
  Tryin' to cram lost years into five or six says
  Seems that blind ambition erased their intuition
  Plowin' straight ahead come what may.
  
  I don't want to live on that kind of island
  No, I don't want to swim in a roped off sea.
  Too much for me, too much for me
  I've got to be where the wind and the water are free.
  
  Alone on a midnight passage
  I can count the falling stars
  While the Southern Cross and the satellites
  They remind me of where we are
  Spinning around in circles
  Living it day to day
  And still twenty four hours, maybe sixty good years
  It's still not that long a stay.
  
  We've gotta roll with the punches
  Learn to play all of our hunches
  Makin' the best of whatever comes your way
  Forget that blind ambition
  And learn to trust your intuition
  Plowin' straight ahead come what may.
  And there's a cowboy in the jungle.