Introduction:

In the sweltering summer of 2003, country music fans were introduced to a song that captured the universal yearning for the end of the workday with a tropical twist. “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere,” a duet by country music mainstays Alan Jackson and Jimmy Buffett, became an instant sensation, topping charts and solidifying its place as an anthem for those longing to unwind after a long day.

While the sentiment of celebrating the end of the workday is a common theme in country music, “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere” injects a dose of Buffett’s signature laid-back, island vibe. Jackson, known for his traditional country sound and heartfelt vocals, perfectly complements Buffett’s beachy persona. This unlikely pairing creates a song that transcends genre, appealing to both country traditionalists and those who crave a taste of paradise.

The song’s origins lie with songwriters Jim “Moose” Brown and Don Rollins. They crafted a simple yet relatable scenario: a worker stuck in a seemingly endless workday, longing for the freedom of quitting time. The brilliance lies in the now-iconic chorus: “Pour me somethin’ tall an’ strong/ Make it a Hurricane before I go insane/ It’s only half-past twelve but I don’t care/ It’s five o’clock somewhere.” This line beautifully captures the feeling of breaking free from the constraints of work, regardless of the actual time. It’s an indulgence, a playful defiance against the daily grind, a reminder that somewhere in the world, it truly is cocktail hour.

“It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere” was released in June 2003 as the lead single from Jackson’s compilation album, Greatest Hits Volume II. The song became a massive commercial success, reaching number two on the Billboard Hot Country Songs chart and number 14 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. It resonated with listeners across demographics, becoming a party staple and a go-to karaoke rendition.

The song’s impact wasn’t limited to the charts. “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere” became a cultural phenomenon, a catchphrase uttered by those yearning for a break. It spawned countless t-shirts, bar signs, and even a brand of margarita mix. The song’s success cemented Buffett’s reputation as the king of “Parrothead” culture, a laid-back philosophy centered on escaping to tropical destinations, and further solidified Jackson’s position as a country music icon.

While not without its light-hearted escapism, “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere” also celebrates the value of hard work. The song acknowledges the drudgery of the workday, but it also highlights the satisfaction of a job well done and the simple joy of unwinding after a long day’s effort. It’s a reminder to savor those moments of relaxation, a feeling that transcends genre and resonates with anyone who has ever punched a clock.

Video:

Lyrics:

… The sun is hot and that old clock is movin’ slowAn’ so am IWork day passes like molasses in wintertimeBut it’s JulyI’m gettin’ paid by the hour, an’ older by the minuteMy boss just pushed me over the limitI’d like to call him somethin’I think I’ll just call it a day
… Pour me somethin’ tall an’ strongMake it a Hurricane before I go insaneIt’s only half-past twelve but I don’t careIt’s five o’clock somewhere
… Oh, this lunch break is gonna take all afternoonAn’ half the nightTomorrow mornin’, I know there’ll be hell to payHey, but that’s all rightI ain’t had a day off now in over a yearOur Jamaican vacation’s gonna start right hereHit the phones for meYou can tell ’em I just sailed away
… An’ pour me somethin’ tall an’ strongMake it a Hurricane before I go insaneIt’s only half-past twelve but I don’t careIt’s five o’clock somewhere
… I could pay off my tab, pour myself in a cabAn’ be back to work before twoAt a moment like this, I can’t help but wonderWhat would Jimmy Buffet do?
… Funny you should ask, Alan… I’d sayPour me somethin’ tall an’ strongMake it a Hurricane before I go insaneIt’s only half-past twelve but I don’t care
… Pour me somethin’ tall an’ strongMake it a Hurricane before I go insaneIt’s only half-past twelve but I don’t care(He don’t care)I don’t careIt’s five o’clock somewhere
… What time zone am on? What country am I in?It doesn’t matter, it’s five o’clock somewhereIt’s always on five in Margaritaville, come to think of itYeah, I heard thatYou been there haven’t youYessirI seen your boat thereI’ve been to Margaritaville a few timesAll right, that’s goodStumbled all the way backOK, just wanna make sure you can keep it between the navigational beaconsBring the booze, I tell youAll right, well, it’s five o’clockLet’s go somewhereI’m ready, crank it upLet’s get out of hereI’m gone

You Missed

In the mid-1970s, when Merle Haggard stood at the pinnacle of country music stardom, the applause often faded into something far more private. Behind the sold-out shows and bright stage lights, he carried a quiet burden — the accumulated weight of broken relationships, endless highways, and the solitude that success can’t erase. One evening, after stepping offstage, he returned to a modest motel room and turned on the television. An old black-and-white film flickered across the screen, filled with sweeping romances and neatly tied happy endings. As he watched the characters find effortless love and redemption, the contrast felt almost piercing. His own life had been far less cinematic — marked by failed marriages, restless touring, and the emotional distance that comes with living out of a suitcase. In that stillness, he began to reflect on how easily people measure their lives against fictional standards. Movies promise that love conquers all and that every heartbreak resolves before the final scene fades. Real life, however, offers no such guarantees. Expectations shaped by the silver screen often dissolve into disappointment when reality proves more complicated. From that quiet realization emerged “It’s All In The Movies.” The song became a tender acknowledgment that the flawless endings we admire are crafted illusions. Yet rather than sounding cynical, it carried empathy. For Haggard, it was both an admission of vulnerability and a gesture of reassurance — a reminder that imperfection does not diminish meaning. Through the melody, he seemed to tell listeners that while life may never follow a script, the emotions we feel are just as powerful as any scene in film. The movies may sell dreams, but the truth — messy, unfinished, and deeply human — is what truly endures.