When it's fiesta time in Guada-lajara,
Then I long to be back once again
In old Mexi-co.
Where we lived for today,
Never giving a thought to tomara.
To the strumming of gui-tars,
In a hundred grubby bars
I would whisper "te amo."
The mari-achis would sere-nade,
And they would not shut up till they were paid.
We ate, we drank, and we were merry,
And we got typhoid and dysen-tery.
But best of all, we went to the plaza de toros.
Now whenever I start feeling morose,
I revive by recalling that scene.
And names like belmonte, dominguin, and mano-lete,
If I live to a hundred and eighty,
I shall never forget what they mean.
ALTERNATE CHORDS BACK AND FORTH FOR THIS SPOKE PART
(for there is surely nothing more beautiful in this
World than the sight of a lone man facing singlehandedly
Out came the matador,
Who must have been potted or
Slightly in-sane, but who looked rather bored.
Then the picadors of course,
Each one on his horse,
I shouted "ole!" ev'ry time one was gored.
I cheered at the bandil-leros' display,
As they stuck the bull in their own clever way,
For I hadn't had so much fun since the day
My brother's dog rover
Got run over.
ALTERNATE CHORDS ON THIS SPOKEN PART
(rover was killed by a pontiac. and it was done with
Such grace and artistry that the witnesses awarded the
The moment had come,
I swallowed my gum,
We knew there'd be blood on the sand pretty soon.
The crowd held it's breath,
Hoping that death
Would brighten an otherwise dull after-noon.
At last, the matador did what we wanted him to.
He raised his sword and his aim was true.
In that moment of truth I suddenly knew
That someone had stolen my wallet.
Now it's fiesta time in ak-ron, ohio,
But it's back to old Guadalajara I'm longing to go.
Far away from the strikes of the A.F. of L. and C.I.O.
How I wish I could get back
To the land of the wetback,
And forget the Alamo,
In old Mexi-co.
SHOUT - Ole!