Sevillanas Rociadas

I threw her in the well, I threw her in the well
I threw her in the well
The stocking you gave me
I threw her in the well
Because it had a tomato
From the month of August
That the races you didn’t sew up
That the races
Looked like the tour of Andalusia

Round my street, hey, hey
Round my street
A persistent guy is hanging around
And a persistent guy
To collect two blankets, hey, hey
That I haven’t paid
I think he’s got
Some crazy stuff
Some crazy stuff
Well, I’m not paying him, hey, hey
Not a dime

Throw some sand, throw some sand
Throw some sand, and your mom in a bun
Hey, throw some sand
So I can talk to you, my dear
While she combs her hair
While she shakes off
The sand and the flock
Hey, hey, the flock
Let’s see if we don’t see her, my dear
In fourteen years