Spanish is the loving tongue,
soft as music, light as spray.
‘Twas a girl I learned it from
living down Sonora way.
I don’t look much like a lover,
yet I say her love-words over
often when I’m all alone:
Mi amor, mi corazon!

Moonlight on the patio,
old senora nodding near,
me and Juana talking low
so her madre could not hear.

How those hours would go a-flyin’,
and all too soon I’d hear her sighin'
in her little sorry tone,
Mi amor, mi corazon!

Never seen her since that night;
I can’t cross the line, you know.
I'm wanted for a gamblin’ fight--
like as not, it’s better so.

Yet I’ve always kind of missed her,
And that last sad night I kissed her.
I left her heart and lost my own...
adios, mi corazon!