I'm just a
Spanish tamale according to
May, right off the boat from the tropics far,
far away.
Which is kind of funny,
since where I come from is
Allentown,
PA.
Spanish!
Okay, may I'll be
Spanish, right after I've married
Alberto.
I'll be the toast of
Chichi
Castanengo,
and all day long my castanets will click.
I'll hide behind my fan and
do the tango.
I'll be so
Spanish it will make you sick.
I'll eat the tacos and the enchilada.
I'll drink tequila till I feel no pain.
The only song I'll sing will be
Granada.
I'll be more
Espanol than
Abbey
Lane.
So call me the wild
Spanish rose,
The craziest flower that grows.
I'll kick up my heels and
see how it feels
To be sultry
Spanish
Rosalía
Behind my mantilla I'll pose
The beauty that nobody knows
So regal and cool, exciting and cruel,
that's me,
Spanish
Rose!
Mi nombre
Rosita
Hernandez.
You buy my tortilla?
You like me?
Yes, no, maybe.
Americano, let me give you a
bit of advice, to cross
Spanish roads isn't wise, your mat
you have found, so don't mess around,
her heart she is cold like ice.
With
Al bert I will dance to the bolero,
we'll cha -cha in the nicest honky -tonks, he'll wear
the cutest moustache and sombrero,
my handsome
Latin lover from the
Bronx.
So, now that you've met
Spanish
Rosa,
you'll never forget
Spanish
Rosa.
She'll taunt you, she'll tame you,
but what man would blame
you for worshiping
Spanish
Rosa?
Not
Danish, not
British,
not
Swedish, not
Yiddish,
But spurn this razor!