North of the Border

North of the Border

A composite of several characters I’ve known in Terlingua, where the West is still wild. The Boquillas border crossing – basically a rowboat – was shut down after 9/11 and reopened in April 2013. 

It’s a long drive to Terlingua,
If you’re driven to extremes,
Seeking the treasure, in the Chihuahua desert,
Where nothing is quite what it seems.
There is nothing straight on the border.
Even the river is bent.
Everybody you meet’s, got a secret to keep.
They didn’t get here by accident.

Wo, wo-oh-oh, wo, wo-oh-oh, North of the border.
Wo, wo-oh-oh, wo, wo-oh-oh, North of the border,
And south of America, south of America.

Now, me, I’m an auto mechanic.
I only do work for cash.
Got a counterfeit social security card,
Keep the Virgin Mary on my dash.
I live just this side of the Rio.
It’s a line that I often cross.
When the men in the shades get to snooping my way,
I grab me a boat and I get lost.

Saturday night in Boquillas,
Them vaqueros all look so young.
Drinking cactus whiskey,
They ain’t gonna frisk me,
‘Cause everyone already got their own gun,
Oh, that’s how the West is won.
Wo, wo-oh-oh, wo, wo-oh-oh
, North of the border,
And south of America, south of America.

And Juan and Jose in the morning,
Are happy to let me back in.
A couple cervezas put smiles on their faces.
They don’t even ask what I’m packing in.
When you live at the edge of two worlds,
It’s so easy to fall through the cracks.
Yeah, I was a gringo, till I got to Terlingua.
Now, I ain’t never going back,
‘Cause this a different time zone,
Where you do what you want when you wanna.
You can get yourself drunk on the heat of the sun,
Till you can’t tell today from manana.


Bluebonnet Border SkinnyWords and music © 1992 by Steve Brooks and Frog Records
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