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John Roy was a boy I knew since he was three and I was two
Grew up two little houses down from me
The only bad apples on our family tree
Kinda ripened and rottened in our puberty
Two kindred spirits, bound by destiny.
Well, now I was smart but I lacked ambition,
Johnny was wild and no inhibition was about like [G/B]mixin’ fire and
gasoline and he said,

chorus
“Hey, Romeo, let’s go down to Mexico
Chase senoritas, drink ourselves silly,
Show them Mexican girls a couple real hillbillys.
Got a pocket full of cash and that old Ford truck,
Fuzzy cat hangin from the mirror hook.
Said don’t you k[G/B]now all those little browneyed girls
Want playboys of the southwestern world.”
La la la la la la la la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la la la la la la la

Along around our 18th year,
Found two airplane tickets to the hell outta here.
Got scholarships to some small town school in Texas.
We learned to drink Sangria’s til the dawn’s early light,
Eat Ranchero’s and throw up all night,
And tell those daddy’s girls we were majorin’ in the rodeo.
Aw, but my favorite memory in school that fall
Was the night John Roy came runnin’ down in the hall
Wearin nothing but c[G/B]owboy boots and a big sombrero and he was yellin’

chorus

And I said we had a little change in plans,
Like when Paul McCartney got busted in Japan.
C G/B Am Am7 D
And I said we got waylaid when we set foot on Mexican soil.
You see, the bo[G(1]rderman guard with the fumanch[C(1]u mustache
Kinda st[G(1]umbled upon John’s pocket of American c[D(1]ash.
He said “D[G(1]oin’ a little funny bus[C(1]iness in Mexcio, A[D(1]migo?”
And a[Em(1]ll I could think about was savin’ [D(1]my own tail
When he m[C(1]entioned 10 years in a Me[G(1]xican jail
So I p[C(1]ointed at J[G/B(1]ohn Roy and s[Am(1]aid
Am7(1) D
“It’s all his…now please let me go.
It [—]was your idea, genius.

I was just layin’ there in bed when you said..”

“Hey, Romeo, let’s go down to Mexico
Chase senoritas, drink ourselves silly,
Show them Mexican girls a couple real hillbillys.
Got a pocket full of cash and that old Ford truck,
Fuzzy cat hangin from the mirror hook.
Said don’t you k[G/B]now all those little browneyed girls
G Cadd9 G D (play til end of song)
Want playboys of the south,

well from the southwestern world.

Ah, we’re still best friends…temporary cell mates.