When it's fiesta time in Guadalajara
Then I long to be back once again
In Old Mexico
Where we lived for today, never giving a thought to tomara
To the strumming of guitars
In a hundred grubby bars
I would whisper: "Te amo!"

The mariachis would serenade
And they would not shut up till they were paid
We ate, we drank, and we were merry
And we got typhoid and dysentery

But best of all, we went to the Plaza de Toros
Now whenever I start feeling morose
I revive by recalling that scene
And names like Belmonte, Domingu'in, and Manolete
If I live to a hundred and eighty
I shall never forget what they mean

(Spoken)
For there is surely nothing more beautiful in this world than the sight of a lone man facing single-handedly a half a ton of angry pot roast!

Out came the matador
Who must have been potted or
Slightly insane, but who looked rather bored
Then the picadors of course
Each one on his horse
I shouted "Olé!" ev'ry time one was gored
I cheered at the banderilleros' display
As they stuck the bull in their own clever way
For I hadn't had so much fun since the day
My brother's dog Rover
Got run over

(Spoken)
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...

The moment had come
I swallowed my gum
We knew there'd be blood on the sand pretty soon
The crowd held its breath
Hoping that death
Would brighten an otherwise dull afternoon

At last, the matador did what we wanted him to
He raised his sword and his aim was true
In that moment of truth, I suddenly knew
That someone had stolen my wallet

Now it's fiesta time in Akron, Ohio
But it's back to old Guadalajara I'm longing to go
Far away from the strikes of the A.F. of L. and C.I.O
How I wish I could get back
To the land of the wetback
And forget the Alamo
In Old Mexico
Olé!