Mariachi beats are unmistakably Mexican, sassy as salsa
Hot and spicy, the sombrero on the floor hops up and down
Carnival dance battle begins with the traditional janabe tapatio
Crowd marvels at the precision of the couple’s moves
Courtship unveiled as the dance progresses, he is pursuing
His efforts refused at first, her China Poblana dress flaring
Female dancer finally accepts his advances, her handsome man
He gives the crowd a happy wave, showing off his charro suit.
Don’t be buffaloed it’s not Pancho Villa he’s dead
Just have’n a fling before what lies ahead
I respect Soup Creek and its laws
Although some have their flaws
There are no guns allowed where I am headed
Anaya’s Steak House, sure like the ring to that
A place of my own, where I’m no one’s door mat
On my way to the bordello
And then soon the rodeo
Mis campanero’s, I’m bringing my charro hat!
For Vicente Fernandez
The dirt
The sweat
The horses,
Saddles off,
Brushed.
The girl who thinks she is pregnant.
The woman who is.
The man with no money is his pocket
The man with pockets full.
The man who stumbles.
The women who watch.
The broken hearts
The soon to be’s
The finger waggers
The I-will-nevers
The I-told-you so’s.
But listen!
Everything stops.
The world and its noise
And clatter and-
He sings!
Listen!
You can hear
The sound of falling in love
The quiet flames filling space
And space and space again.
The skirts swirl
The men dance when they couldn’t before.
El Charro!
El Charro!
Nothing is wrong
When we hear your voice
Fill the night
Across our lonely plains
And valleys and mountains.
Turn up the radio
Turn it up loud-
Loud.
El Charro sings!
El Rey!
He sings!
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