In Old Mexico

When it's fiesta time in Guadalajara

Then I long to be back once again

In old Mexico

Where we lived for today

Never giving a thought to tomara

To the strumming of guitars

In a hundred grubby bars

I would whisper "Te amo"

The mariachis would serenade

And they would not shut up till they were paid

We ate, we drank, and we were merry

And we got typhoid and dysentery

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 Manolete

If I live to a hundred and eight-e

I shall never forget what they mean

Out came the matador

Who must have been potted or

Slightly insane, 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 bandilleros' 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

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 afternoon

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 Akron, 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 Mexico

Ole