Lyrics I love (volume 1)

Buenas Tardes Amigo / Hola, my good friend / Cinco de Mayo's on Tuesday / And I hoped we'd see each other again / You killed my brother last winter / You shot him three times in the back / In the night I still hear mama weeping / Oh mama, still dresses in black / I looked at every fiesta / For you I wanted to greet / Maybe I'd sell you a chicken / With poison interlaced with the meat / You...you look like my brother / Mama loved him the best / He was head honcho with the ladies / Mama always said he was blessed / The village all gathered around him / They couldn't believe what they saw / I said it was you that had killed him / And that I'd find you and upstand the law / The people of the village believed me / Mama...she wanted revenge / I told her that I'd see that she was honored / I'd find you and put you to death

So now...now that I've found you / On this such a joyous day / I tell you it was me who killed him / But the truth I'll never have to say / Buenas tardes amigo / Hola, my good friend / Cinco de Mayo's on Tuesday / And I hoped we'd see each other again / Yes, I hoped we'd see each other again

By the way, don't ever fool around with Speedy Gonzalez impersonations in Spanish-speaking countries. Despite the hours and hours of hilarity that can ensue from a simple «¡Andare, andare! ¡Arriba, arriba!», it doesn't always go down the right way. Years ago, when I was but a whipper-snapper, I took the overnight train from Paris to Madrid. Sharing my cabin were a middle-aged Japanese fellow who, as we whizzed through the countryside somewhere near the Loire in the early evening, decided to strip down to his Y-fronts and and lie on his bunk , and a chatty bloke from Stockport called Dave. So naturally we strike up a conversation, as one does over a few cans of Kronenbourg 1664. And so it goes. When the conductor came through to gather our passports and pull down the bunks (the Japanese guy was still fully clothed at this stage), we got onto the topic of Spanish. Know anything? Iasked. "Only dos cervesas por favor". "Yeah, nice one" I replied. "All I know is ¡Andare, andare! ¡Arriba, arriba!", and we both laughed. At which point the conductor turned and glared at me, harrumphed as only Europeans can, and stormed out of the cabin.

So we looked at each other and shrugged, like you do, had a few more cans, got freaked out by the Japanese guy, and turned in ourselves. In the morning, when said conductor dropped by to return our passports, he gave the Japanese man his, Dave his, and threw mine at me from the door, really hard. And I think it was just then that we realised that telling a petty European public servant to" Hurry, hurry! Quickly, quickly!" was not the most polite thing to do as he makes your bed. Nor to crack up laughing aftwards.