The War For Salt

I have retired to a banana republic
where the Spanish and the Dutch have learned to live in peace
where The War For Salt has long since ended
I spend most of my days sailing with the Chief of Police
he is a gracious brown-skinned man who quietly dreams of the day
when there is no crack house in paradise
or a slave ship sunk out in the bay

Chorus

Whiskey for Kings rum for cane cutters
trucks back up in the marketplace and they grind to a halt Whiskey
Whiskey for Kings rum for cane cutters
Did I just come down here to win The War For Salt

The season is over the tourists have gone
the dealers have followed their trail
a young black boy in Shantytown dreams of
finding a hundred pound bale
go if you must go and count the cruise ships in the Third World
I tried to convince myself that my only wish
is to be living at the end of the cane field in a mobile home trailer
in the shadow of a satellite dish

Chorus

The coral reefs have grown up on rusted chains
born in Spanish forges and stained with the blood of African kings
wood from shipwrecked slave traders was hammered into church steeples
we do unto others as a cash machine hums and a church bell rings.

I have retired to a banana republic
where the Spanish and the Dutch have learned to live in peace
where The War For Salt has long since ended
I spend most of my days sailing with the Chief of Police
the Chief asked me why I left America
and I said to find the golden end of a long forgotten bay
to wait for a ship called Freedom (or was it Grace) and sail away

Whiskey for Kings rum for cane cutters

© 1997 Liberty Beach Music
From the album, “The War For Salt”

http://www.DavidHarris.com libertybeach@mail.com All songs written by David Harris. Copyright 2006 Liberty Beach Music, BMI. Used by permission.

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