I met her in Old Mexico. She was laughing, sad and young
In a smoky room, where no one could see.
Her favorite poets all agreed, Spanish is a loving tongue.
But she never spoke Spanish to me
She was born in Monterey and all the Christmas songs were sung.
The Padre knew what she'd grow up to be.
Saints and sinners all agree, Spanish is a loving tongue.
But she never spoke Spanish to me.
Break
Like a lion screaming in the jungle,
She never fooled with what she couldn't see.
She spoke to all the shadows in her bungalow.
But she never spoke Spanish to me.
She said, you're from Texas, son, then, where's your boots and where's your gun
I smiled and said, "I got guns, no one can see".
We laughed at that, we both agreed, Spanish is a loving tongue.
But she never spoke Spanish to me.
I left her in old Mexico. She was laughing, sad and young.
In a smoky room, where no one could see.
Her favorite poets all agreed, Spanish is a loving tongue.
But she never spoke Spanish to me
She never spoke Spanish to me