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Xann

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Tom Lehrer - In Old Mexico

I'm sure you're all aware that this week is National Gallbladder Week, so as sort of an educational feature, I thought I would acquaint you with the results of my recent researches into the life of Dr. Samuel Gall, inventor of the Gallbladder, which certainly ranks as one of the more important technological advances since the invention of the joy buzzer and the dribble glass. Dr. Gall's faith in his invention was so dramatically vindicated last year, when, in a nationwide poll, the Gallbladder was voted one of the top ten organs.

His educational career began, interestingly enough, in agricultural school, where he majored in animal husbandry until they caught him at it one day. Whereupon he switched to the field of medicine, in which field he also won renown as the inventor of gargling, which prior to that time had been practiced only furtively by a remote tribe in the Andes who passed the secret down from father to son as part of their oral tradition.

He soon became a specialist, specializing in diseases of the rich. He was therefore able to retire at an early age to the land we all dream about: Sunny Mexico, of course. That last part is completely irrelevant, as is the whole thing, I guess, except it's a rather sneaky way of segueing to this next type of popular song which is one of those things about that magic and romantic land south of the border.

...

But best of all we went to the Plaza del Toros.

Now whenever I start feeling morose,

I revive by recalling that scene.

And the names like Belmonte, Dominguin, and Manolete,

If I live to a hundred and eightay,

I shall never forget what they mean.

(For there is surely nothing more beautiful in this world than the sight of a lone man facing singlehandedly a half a ton of angry pot roast)

Out came the matador

Who must have been potted or

Slightly insane, but who looked rather bored.

Then the picadors of course,

Each one on his horse,

I shouted "Ole!" every time one was gored.

I cheered at the bandillero's display

As they stuck the bull in their own special way

For I hadn't had so much fun since the day

My brother's dog Rover

Got run over.

(Rover was killed by a Pontiac, and it was done with such grace and artistry that the witnesses awarded the driver both ears and the tail. But I digress.)

The moment had come.

I swallowed my gum.

We knew there'd be blood on the sand pretty soon.

The crowd held its breath,

Hoping that death

Would brighten an otherwise dull afternoon.

...

Now it's fiesta time in Akron, Ohio,

But it's back to old Guadalajara I'm longing to go:

Far away from the strikes of the A. F. of L. and C. I. O.

How I wish I could get back

To the land of the wetback

And forget the Alamo

In old Mexico!

There's an almost drattian level of puns there, I suppose...

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