Unburdened of their passengers   The taxis have all scattered   The hawkers move their tables out   They'll be selling no more leather   The Oslo Queen is set to sail   From the Port of Buenos Aires   The ropes are thrown and the big horn moans   As she slips out of the harbor      The stowaway is keeping still   In the dark of his container   With his blanket and his flashlight   And a picture of his sweetheart   He's rationing his batteries   But right now he can't resist her   Standing there with her long brown hair   In that Che Guevara t-shirt      As the contents of his wallet show   His plan's a little sketchy   Three hundred bucks and the bad address   Of a cousin in Miami   In a couple months with a little luck   He'll be wiring home some money   And even if they send him back   It'll make a damn good story      Late at night he ventures out   Each time a little farther   Emboldened by his wanderlust   His boredom, and his hunger   Til he's standing out on the open deck   Searching for La Cruz del Sur   But by-and-by the sky he knows   Has yielded to another      The moon shines on the shipping lanes   Off the coast of Venezuela   And as he looks out at the oilers   Riding heavy up to Texas   He sings a little to himself   Luna, luna, luna llena   While the moon, a word he's yet to learn,   Betrays him to the cameras      Now he's somewhere in Dade County   And six weeks without a lawyer   On the basis of the evidence   They could keep him there forever   The guy with the cuban accent says   "Do you recognize this picture?"   And there she is with her long brown hair   And that Che Guevara t-shirt