I went on a vacation down in Texas some while back;
I bought me a serape and got tanned brown as a sack.
As I stood idly looking at the Border one fine day,
an agent of the government told me to step his way.
He looked all through my wallet and examined my blue eyes;
and then he said I looked like I should join the other guys
he had locked up for faking their American ID --
I was an illegal and a threat to decency.
When I protested that my folks from Norway had once come,
he sneered and said that disbelief was his firm rule of thumb.
I would be deported and sent back away down South
where I would find myself with only rain and cottonmouth.
When I stood up before the judge and shouted "Dette er feil!"
he said that Spanish lingo in his courtroom would not fly.
And so to Patagonia I found myself exiled,
and never with dear Uncle Sam have I been reconciled.
A man without a country; that is now my sad condition,
riding a guanaco while I hope for extradition.
Tell my fam'ly I'll be home for Christmas if I can --
unless Homeland Security sends me to Pakistan . . .
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