By: steve goodman, jim rothermel, steve burgh   1977   Down to the banana republics, down to the tropical sun   Go the expatriated americans, hopin' to find some fun   Some of them go for the sailing, caught by the lure of the sea   Tryin' to find what is ailing, livin' in the land of the free      Some of them are running from lovers, leaving no foreward address   Some of them are running tons of ganja   Some are running from the i.r.s.      Chorus:   Late at night you will find them   In the cheap hotels and bars   Hustling the senioritas while they dance beneath the stars   Spending those renegade pesos on a bottle of rum and a lime   Singin' give me some words I can dance to   Or a melody that rhymes      First you learn the native customs   Soon a word of spanish or two   You know that you cannot trust them   'cause they know they can't trust you   Expatriated americans feelin' so all alone   Telling themselves the same lies   That they told themselves back home      Down to the banana republics, things aren't as warm as they seem   None of the natives are buying any second-hand american dreams      Chorus:   Late at night you will find them   In the cheap hotels and bars   Hustling the senioritas while they dance beneath the stars   Spending those renegade pesos on a bottle of rum and a lime   Singin' give me some words I can dance to   Or a melody that rhymes      Down to the banana republics, down to the tropical sun   Go the expatriated americans hopin' to find some fun