Unburdened of their passengers 
The taxis have all scattered 
The hawkers move their tables out 
They’ll be selling no more leather 
The Oslo Queen is set to sail 
From the Port of Buenos Aires 
The ropes are thrown and the big horn moans 
As she slips out of the harbor 

The stowaway is keeping still 
In the dark of his container 
With his blanket and his flashlight 
And a picture of his sweetheart 
He’s rationing his batteries 
But right now he can’t resist her 
Standing there with her long brown hair 
In that Che Guevara t-shirt 

As the contents of his wallet show 
His plan’s a little sketchy 
Three hundred bucks and the bad address 
Of a cousin in Miami 
In a couple months with a little luck 
He’ll be wiring home some money 
And even if they send him back 
It’ll make a damn good story 

Late at night he ventures out 
Each time a little farther 
Emboldened by his wanderlust 
His boredom, and his hunger 
Til he’s standing out on the open deck 
Searching for La Cruz del Sur 
But by-and-by the sky he knows 
Has yielded to another 

The moon shines on the shipping lanes 
Off the coast of Venezuela 
And as he looks out at the oilers 
Riding heavy up to Texas 
He sings a little to himself 
Luna, luna, luna llena 
While the moon, a word he’s yet to learn, 
Betrays him to the cameras 

Now he’s somewhere in Dade County 
And six weeks without a lawyer 
On the basis of the evidence 
They could keep him there forever 
The guy with the cuban accent says 
“Do you recognize this picture?” 
And there she is with her long brown hair 
And that Che Guevara t-shirt