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Lesley Rae Dowling
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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
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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
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