The marines have landed on the shores
And the fish take flight and scatter from the sight
The singing soldiers
Of Santo Domingo
The sea is churning
Of Santo Domingo
The sea is churning
The heat is leaning
When it's beginning
The town is sleeping
The marines have landed on the shores
The unsmiling sun is shining down upon
That the the marines have landed on the shores
He runs a-warning
And the eyes of the dead are turning every head
The old women sigh, think of memories gone by
The streets are still, there's silence in the hills
The marines have landed on the shores
Their teeth are gleaming
The day's a-burning
The sand is burning
Through the doors to see who's winning
Up and down the coed, the generals drink a toast
Their courses turning
To the widows screaming
So they open their guns, a thousand to one
As the warships sway and thunder in the bay
In the cloud dust whirl they whistle at the girls
Now they are rolling
But the traitors will pretend that it's getting near the end
He clutches at his head and totters on the edge
Ready for the tricks, their bayonets are fixed
The marines have landed on the shores
Of Santo Domingo
The marines have landed on the shores
And the cowards and the whores are peeking
Of Santo Domingo
A bullet cracks the sound, the army hit the ground
Of Santo Domingo
Of Santo Domingo
The marines have landed on the shores
And the fish take flight and scatter from the sight
The marines have landed on the shores
But the soldiers make a bid, giving candy to the kids
But the boy on the shore is throwing pebbles no more
The wheel is spinning
As the seagulls rest on the cold cannon nest
Where fear is unfolding
Of Santo Domingo
All the young wives afraid, turn their backs on the parade
The flags are weaving
The fishermen sweat, they're pausing at their nets
They're getting bolder
The sniper is callin'
With babes they're holding
In the red plaza square, the crowds come to stare
Their courses turning
They shrug their shoulders
As the seagulls rest on the cold cannon nest
As the first troops land and step into the sand
Loud the morning
Look how he's falling
And the crabs are crazy, they scuttle back and forth
And the farmers yawn in the gray silver dawn
The fields they're keeping
No sense in stalling
Of Santo Domingo
The marines have landed on the shores
And the tanks make tracks past the trembling shacks
