This is the land of the dark-eyed @3gente@1, Of the @3dolce far niente@1, Where we dream away Both the night and day, At night-time in sleep our dreams we invoke, Our dreams come by day through the redolent smoke, As it lazily curls, And slowly unfurls From our lips, And the tips Of our fragrant @3cigarillos@1. For life in the tropics is only a joke, So we pass it in dreams, and we pass it in smoke, Smoke — smoke — smoke. Tropical constitutions Call for occasional revolutions; But after that's through, Why there's nothing to do But smoke — smoke; For life in the tropics is only a joke, So we pass it in dreams, and we pass it in smoke, Smoke — smoke — smoke. |