I’m on the boat and I’m coming home to you. Won’t be too long, the mainland’s come into view. I didn’t buy you a present, though I wanted to. I never even wrote, but at least I’m on the boat, and I’m coming home to you.
I’m on the boat and I’m coming home to you. But when I land there’s just a few things that first I’ll have to do. I got friends at Sandy Ground and we’ll have a beer or two, but don’t you fret, I’ll be home yet, and besides, we’ll drink to you.
I’m on the boat and I’m coming home to you, and I might be hammered before the night is through. I’m on my fifth just sitting on the deck, I haven’t met my rendezvous at Sandy Ground yet. But don’t you worry, baby, you’re the jury, baby, and I’m telling you true: eventually I’ll make it home on this boat on home to you.
Well the hijinks up at Sandy Ground, well, they may get out of hand. And I might have to bring the boys home with me, at least those that cannot stand. You see, these are the responsibilities that come with being a man, and if I know you, and I sure do, I know you’ll understand.
I can’t help it if they snore, but I’ll leave a bucket on the floor. Aw, honey, they can crash on the couch, it’s not like we don’t have the room. What’s that you say, baby? You want me to go out there too? Well, maybe I’ll just get back on that boat on away from you.