There is no video, but this way you can hear the whole song. I heard it for the first time today on wxpn. So pretty! I bought it on iTunes for 99 cents.

O La Pago Yo O La Paga Ella (Marino Pérez)

Either I’ll Pay or She’ll Have to Pay

Me voy a beber
Dos o tres botellas
O la pago yo o la paga ella
O la pago yo o la paga ella

Oye, cantinero
Traiga otra botella
Oye, cantinero
Traiga otra botella
O la pago yo o la paga ella
O la pago yo o la paga ella

La mujer que tengo
Eso parte el alma
La mujer que tengo
Eso parte el alma
Su boquita sabe, mamá
A melado de cana
Su boquita sabe, mami
A melado de cana

Me voy a beber
Dos o tres botellas
O la pago yo o la paga ella
O la pago yo o la paga ella

Cuando yo amanezco
Con ganas de beber
Cuando yo amanezco
Con ganas de beber
Pido una botella
Llamo a mi mujer
Pido una botella, mami
Llamo a mi mujer

Mamacita linda
No seas tan rechula
Mamacita linda
No seas tan rechula
Que me estás matando mamá
Con tu sabrosura
Que me estás matando
Con tu sabrosura

Me voy a beber
Dos o tres botellas
O la pago yo o la paga ella
O la pago yo o la paga ella

Cuando ella me dice,
“Pide lo que quiera”
Cuando ella me dice,
“Pide lo que quiera”
Seguimos bebiendo
La semana entera
Seguimos bebiendo, mami
La semana entera

La mujer que tengo
Eso parte el alma
La mujer que tengo
Eso parte el alma
Su boquita sabe, mamá
A melao de cana
Su boquita sabe, mami
A melao de cana

Me voy a beber
Dos o tres botellas
O la pago yo o la paga ella
O la pago yo o la paga ella

(Guitarra…)

Me voy a beber
Dos o tres botellas
O la pago yo o la paga ella
O la pago yo o la paga ella

Mamacita linda
No seas tan rechula
Mamacita linda
No seas tan rechula
Que me estás matando, mamá
Con tu sabrosura
Que me estás matando, mami
Con tu sabrosura

Cuando yo amanezco
Con ganas de beber
Cuando yo amanezco
Con ganas de beber
Pido una botella, mami
Llamo a mi mujer
Pido una botella, mamá
Llamo a mi mujer

Me voy a beber
Dos o tres botellas
O la pago yo o la paga ella
O la pago yo o la paga ella

Me voy a beber
Dos o tres botellas
O la pago yo…

————————————

English translation:

I’m going to go drink
Two or three bottles
Either I’ll pay or she’ll have to pay
Either I’ll pay or she’ll have to pay

Hey, barman
Bring me another bottle
Hey, barman
Bring me another bottle
Either I’ll pay or she’ll have to pay
Either I’ll pay or she’ll have to pay

The woman I have
It breaks my heart
The woman I have
It breaks my heart
Her little mouth tastes, mamá
Like sugar cane syrup
Her little mouth tastes, mami
Like sugar cane syrup.

I’m going to go drink
Two or three bottles
Either I’ll pay or she’ll have to pay
Either I’ll pay or she’ll have to pay

When I wake up
With a desire to drink
When I wake up
With a desire to drink
I ask for a bottle
I call my woman
I ask for a bottle, mami
I call my woman

Beautiful little momma
Don’t be so sweet
Beautiful little momma
Don’t be so sweet
Because you’re killing me, mamá
With your tastiness
You’re killing me
With your tastiness

I’m going to go drink
Two or three bottles
Either I’ll pay or she’ll have to pay
Either I’ll pay or she’ll have to pay

When she tells me,
“Ask for whatever you want”
When she tells me,
“Ask for whatever you want”
We keep drinking
All week long
We keep drinking, mami
All week long

The woman I have
It breaks my heart
The woman I have
It breaks my heart
Her little mouth tastes, mamá
Like sugar cane syrup
Her little mouth tastes, mami
Like sugar cane syrup

I’m going to go drink
Two or three bottles
Either I’ll pay or she’ll have to pay
Either I’ll pay or she’ll have to pay

(Guitar…)

I’m going to go drink
Two or three bottles
Either I’ll pay or she’ll have to pay
Either I’ll pay or she’ll have to pay

Beautiful little momma
Don’t be so sweet
Beautiful little momma
Don’t be so sweet
Because you’re killing me, mamá
With your tastiness
You’re killing me
With your tastiness

When I wake up
With a desire to drink
When I wake up
With a desire to drink
I ask for a bottle, mami
I call my woman
I ask for a bottle, mamá
I call my woman

I’m going to go drink
Two or three bottles
Either I’ll pay or she’ll have to pay
Either I’ll pay or she’ll have to pay

I’m going to go drink
Two or three bottles
Either I’ll pay…

after the fight,
I stormed from the
cool of the bluestone house
into the dry dirt yard
my face as hot as my temper.
the dust swirling at ground level.
the dogs followed my furious steps
down to the low paddock
where the lone horse named leo
leaned into the stand of
decades-old eucalyptus trees
that had grown into one another
over the course of several years.
the dogs with noses to the ground
were disinterested in my emotions.
they caught the scent of rabbit and wandered
a little ways off, zig-zagging past one another.
the horse shook his brown head
to fend off flies, so I took my hands
and cradled the long face
as the tickle of his soft nose hit my ear.
I was at peace here.
the land and the animals, my sanctuary.
I continued on, climbing over the wire fence to
where the dogs now had been trying to find
a fresher track. the dam was deep, cool
and the width of a river.
our golden dog jumped straight in,
and then out again,
and I watched the ripples of water flow,
echoing out from his disturbance.
O the memory of the day’s heat,
the bellbirds’ chirping ringing
high throughout the tree tops.
now my mind searches through memory for
other days there. for fascinating kookaburras,
for skinks, blue tongued lizards, cormorants,
storks, and heron and ibis.
i hold on to glimpses of draping
silvery green eucalyptus,
in both long and short leaves.
magpies caroling at dawn, and
a hillside of grey kangaroo cautiously grazing.
errant foxes skipping through the long grass,
swiftly clearing fences in the still-early mornings.
the sulfur crested cockatoo with their
dreadful screeching in flocks above.
the yellow tailed black cockatoo
cheekily squawking to each other in
the stand of tall pines as they feasted upon
green pinecones.
bats at dusk, rats drawn to the horses feed.
spiders of all description:
huntsman are big, but lookout for the redback and whitetails!
Once, a copperhead sunbathing on a rock.
possums growling in the night, and
playing at chase once the stars emerged.
periwinkle, kangaroo paw and freesia growing
wild in the neighbour’s paddock and
the red bottle brush, ever bold.
Our yard dotted with melaleuca bushes.
the reddish sunset, and now anger, for the most part, erased.
The mournful lowing of cattle from a nearby farm.
The dogs barking. the cool of the house always waiting.
These scenes, played over in my mind,
bring both longing and peace.
O my peace,
my piece of Australia!

You’re happy under him
Write like light, like on a holiday
Whistle while mean friends party
Move wrong, even death, back
17 nice new hot and brilliant touches give hope

A.M. Lehr
June 9, 2008

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air…

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, nor even eagle flew
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

“High Flight” by John Gillespie Magee, Jr., Public Domain.

Of Radish Tops on a Plate

There you are
4 buttons of purple-y red and pinky-white
Little disks of salad enhancement
Feathery green remnants on top
So simple, yet
Enough to make a meal just that
much hotter.
Like when I took your hand in mine
and you thought I was about to be sweet
But I slid your fingers
between my own just-washed, but not dried
gentle fingertips, and opened my
pretty mouth.
And popped you in, sucking a little with a shy smile.
It was unexpected
And a little bit, just a little bit, naughty.
Your hands are one of my favorite delicacies.
(I never did hear you object to such
playfulness.)
So, after that came a more spicy advance,
And that salad never did get made properly.
We ate greens with radishes anyway.
And I threw in black olives for good measure.
You threw in the dish towel and succumbed to my wicked game.
Thank God for that.

A. M. Lehr June 2008