A swedish and
danish
American gent
came to Hawaii
his fortune he spent
built him a house
on the edge of the bay
made all of glass doors
so he could see out each way
of sea captain's dreams
and fisherman's chores
oh...the tales he could tell
from far away shores
Oh the days of his life
and the beautiful young native
he took for a wife
a family he raised
this swedish and danish
american swell
a rascal he was
in the stories he'd tell
adventures in forests
and mountain to shores
on the porch of the house
made of glass doors
in the shade he would sit
watching each day
and what it would bring
more houses and boats
and people that play
bedridden toward the end
this cowboy at heart
he lays back to read
of six guns a blazing
in the hands of black bart
six guns and ships
now sail out to sea
now at long last
his spirit is free
and his ashes are cast
from a ship of the past
his last voyage now spent
this swedish and danish
american gent
Pele—goddess
of the volcano
strange clouds
sound of chanting
from the old ones
a rumble through the land
the sky lights up
in the east
a rain cloud drifts over
disengages into huge drops
drenched in minutes
Pele has been slumbering
snoring for 23 years
she awakens
with a hula la
we bust out a bottle of gin*
for the goddess
and the dance begins
rocking my world
