Twenty six miles across the sea,
Santa Catalina is in flames, I should flee.
Santa Catalina, isle nudists love. . .
No pants (4x).

Water all around it everywhere;
Still they drop it from tankers in air.
Can I stop the singein' on my pate of hair?
No chance.

Went up like kindlin'; every stick pile flambé.
Arrest it I try, with pee stream.
They burn, my aching buns; seared are my nates;
I smell baked meat. . .touch my piles and scream.

Twenty-six miles from mainland bars,
The ones here wink and serve drinks to lush movie stars.
Though we're near the drink,
The terrain is real parched, 'cause
Snow's scant (4x).

Twenty six miles across the sea,
Santa Catalina is in flames, chasin' me.
Can I catch a steamer or ply a tub?
No chance

Hot-as-hell commotion out in the ocean.
Cookin' meat? Need no grills.
I might have to swim to scoot from hot embers;
I'll be grazin' on anodyne pills..

Forty kilotons' retardant leaked from a "boat"
Soarin' above, 'cause flames are remote.
Insurance guys pay? What's the vote?
No chance (4x).

Twenty six miles across the sea,
Santa Catalina's flames are lickin' at me.
Santa Catalina fire's burned my duds,
No pants (4x).

Ember-kissed piles throb caustically;
Fanny-vaseliner's what I should aim to be.
Fannin' crap arena with island shrub:
Oh damn! "Oak" plant's Rhus radicans!*


*poison ivy