The Spaniard

On some dank dusty morning I chanced to meet a Spaniard
With eyes so dark and lips so red and words so cool
He came into my head

He led me to a tavern and he gave to me his silver cup
With leather boots and blood-red wine and hair so fine
Held his hands for me, yeah

I found myself dancing with a rose between my teeth
And the feel of frills around my ankles like a dead man's hand
Red wine drained quickly in the heat of that sensual night
And the cacti kissed together on the meseta
Old man, you cheered me
As I cavorted around the tables
While his fingers filed the guitar in the frenzied mood

As my dance gained momentum
My aching thighs began to wane
But you were strong, you carried on
So I kicked my heels
And I reeled around the room

I flicked my skirts for you
I even tossed the rose right next to you
I even let my hair down and covered you with my mantilla
That night you called me beautiful
You see I don't forget so easily
Now I shred my castanets to a pulp
And I try to remember you

But the day is dawning and candle wax drips to an end
Tables cleared, time to move, Seсor, please
Maсana es un nuevo dнa