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By: Steve Goodman, Jim Rothermel, Steve Burgh 
1977 
Down to the Banana Republics, down to the tropical sun 
Go the expatriated Americans, hopin' to find some fun 
Some of them go for the sailing, caught by the lure of the sea 
Tryin' to find what is ailing, livin' in the land of the free 

Some of them are running from lovers, leaving no foreward address 
Some of them are running tons of ganja 
Some are running from the I.R.S. 

Chorus: 
Late at night you will find them 
In the cheap hotels and bars 
Hustling the senioritas while they dance beneath the stars 
Spending those renegade pesos on a bottle of rum and a lime 
Singin' give me some words I can dance to 
Or a melody that rhymes 

First you learn the native customs 
soon a word of spanish or two 
You know that you cannot trust them 
'Cause they know they can't trust you 
Expatriated Americans feelin' so all alone 
Telling themselves the same lies 
That they told themselves back home 

Down to the Banana Republics, things aren't as warm as they seem 
None of the natives are buying any second-hand American dreams 

Chorus: 
Late at night you will find them 
In the cheap hotels and bars 
Hustling the senioritas while they dance beneath the stars 
Spending those renegade pesos on a bottle of rum and a lime 
Singin' give me some words I can dance to 
Or a melody that rhymes 

Down to the Banana Republics, down to the tropical sun 
Go the expatriated Americans hopin' to find some fun

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