South of the Border and north of the sea,
The moon hangs ripe in the mango tree,
Night is an orchard of apricot glow:
South of the Border, in Mexico.
Guitarras were stringing hearts on a tune —
And the heart of a gringo was never immune!
Her eyes spoke of April, but June were her lips,
South of the Border and dreams from the ships.
Our idyl was broken one rattlesnake night
In gambling and cards, then shooting and flight ...
I saddled — I kissed her, my bright corazon ,
And space in my breast, flew northward alone.
Spur-driven hoofs, a pattern of pain, —
Galloping hoofs kept pounding my brain
And spurs in my soul kept raking: Obey! —
Till, north of the Border, I cursed on the day!
I've never returned: there's a price on my head.
But the cantering years find love thoroughbred.
My breast is a desert, no reason nor chart —
For, south of the Border, I left her my heart!