| The Spaniard — is he an enemy?
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| He seems so frank, so free
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| The Spaniard — he looks like good company
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| A sailor, just like me
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| At least somebody I can ask
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| Whose language I understand
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| But can I trust him with the task
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| Of guiding me through this land?
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| So many questions I have got
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| On the country, whose streets I walk
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| I’m sure he can tell me a lot
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| So the Spaniard began to talk:
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| «I can give the advice for which you ask
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| Never to trust their smiling mask
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| They will tell you how nice
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| They find your blue eyes
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| But that’s there parts
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| Don’t show your cards
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| They wear seven faces and two hearts !»
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| «Never show your real face
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| Don’t show them joy or sorrow
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| Protect yourself from death’s embrace!
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| That way you’ll still live tomorrow
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| I’ll lead you to one their kings, you see
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| He’s one of the five who rule
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| It’s entirely up to you what you’ll be
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| A free man or a tool!» |