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My Margarita, I'm so romantic,
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But Margarita, you drive me frantic,
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My Margarita, you could be tender,
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But seniorita, you won't surrender.
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On my guitar, oh so lightly, I play nightly,
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When the moon begins to shine,
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Though every star above you knows I love you
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I can never make you mine.
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Oh, Margarita, when stars are fading,
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Beneath your window I'm serenading
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My Margarita, life could be sweeter
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If I could read in your glances
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Where romance is when it dances,
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But whenever we're together,
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You're as fickle as the weather
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When you kissed and run away
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My Margarita
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| Horace Heidt |
