Spanish songs in Andalucia the shooting sites in the days of '39.
Oh please leave the vendanna open, Fredrico Lorca is dead and gone.
Bullet holes in the cementery walls, the black cars of the Guardia Civil.
Spanish bombs on the Costa Rica, I'm flying in on a D.C. 10 tonight.
Spanish bombs, yot' quierro y finito
yote querda ,oh ma côrazon
Spanish bombs, yot' quierro y finito
yote querda ,oh ma côrazon
Spanish weeks in my disco casino the freedom fighters died upon the hill.
They sang the red flag, they wore the black one, but after they died it was mockinbird hill.
Back home the buses went up in flashes, the Irish tomb was drenched in blood.
Spanish bombs shatter the holes, my senorita's rose was nipped in the bud.
Spanish bombs, yot' quierro y finito
yote querda ,oh ma côrazon
Spanish bombs, yot' quierro y finito
yote querda ,oh ma côrazon
The hillside ring with "Free the people", or can I hear the echo from the days of '39?
With trenches full of poets, the ragged army, fixin' bayonets to fight the other line,
Spanish bombs rock the province, I'm hearing music from another time,
Spanish bombs on the Costa Brava I'm flying in on a D.C. 10 tonight.
Spanish songs in Andalucia, Mandolina, oh ma côrazon.
Spanish songs in Granada, oh ma côranzon.
Oh please leave the vendanna open, Fredrico Lorca is dead and gone.
Bullet holes in the cementery walls, the black cars of the Guardia Civil.
Spanish bombs on the Costa Rica, I'm flying in on a D.C. 10 tonight.
Spanish bombs, yot' quierro y finito
yote querda ,oh ma côrazon
Spanish bombs, yot' quierro y finito
yote querda ,oh ma côrazon
Spanish weeks in my disco casino the freedom fighters died upon the hill.
They sang the red flag, they wore the black one, but after they died it was mockinbird hill.
Back home the buses went up in flashes, the Irish tomb was drenched in blood.
Spanish bombs shatter the holes, my senorita's rose was nipped in the bud.
Spanish bombs, yot' quierro y finito
yote querda ,oh ma côrazon
Spanish bombs, yot' quierro y finito
yote querda ,oh ma côrazon
The hillside ring with "Free the people", or can I hear the echo from the days of '39?
With trenches full of poets, the ragged army, fixin' bayonets to fight the other line,
Spanish bombs rock the province, I'm hearing music from another time,
Spanish bombs on the Costa Brava I'm flying in on a D.C. 10 tonight.
Spanish songs in Andalucia, Mandolina, oh ma côrazon.
Spanish songs in Granada, oh ma côranzon.