Alfonso Texidor, skinny hombré
Of sharp angles and fiery eye.
Raises his cane like sword or wand
To tilt for the insurgent dawn or Don.
Alfonso Texidor, Soul-singer and interpreter,
Declaims between cigarettes and wine
Rebel spirit of the righteous Many
From Azania to Salvador.
Alfonso Texidor jams together tender
Anger with irony of the Knight pursuing justice.
"Lies, Sir--Don't Believe It!" Alfonso says.
"He hung himself while shaving!"
He tripped on a bar of soap!
While tying his shoelaces!
He exploded from the 90th floor
Due to office-furniture fires!
There is only one of two poss-i-bil-i-ties--
Either you can go on, or you quit,
And you can't quit, so you go on
Till you return again
As a hero for El Pueblo--Si, si—you, you, and you—
Beyond borders that would cripple you more!
Alfonso Texidor!
Call him his name!
Decades for sure, ciertamente, up against walls!
Champion always, siempre, of the heart-sore
Bent but straight on through coffee grounds,
Hasta! Hasta! Potsa lasta! Gris-Gris y fuego!
You hear his voice! Hear him winning!
Alfonso Texidor!