Pretty Things

I was encased in an aircraft
Feeling so sick I couldn't say
When the cat next to me
Said let's take it down to Cuba way
Well his manner wasn't nice
But his hand grenades looked very mean
And the luger down his trousers
Well that was twice as obscene
When we touched down in Cuba
The temp was a 105Ўг
Though the cantenna was closed
Even I was glad to be alive
As for two weeks in Miami
I sussed then that they were blown
Dr. Fidel wasn't home
So they showed us where the sugar was grown
Chorus
Havana Bound hi-jacked by some joker
Took me down to Cuba
Where the grass was green
Solo
Well the passport man came up to me
And he really looked sly
Well he chalked on my valise