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