José - Jiří Grossmann, Sláva Kunst se svým orchestrem, Lee Hazlewood

In a small village near La Plaza Mexico lived a boy

Not so many years ago

And hunger was his enemy every day

But he never begged the boy called Jose

And every day he worked in the fields he worked well

And when the night came this boy slept where he fell

And the earth was the only mother he ever knew some people say

And she gave him strenght

And he grew to be a man called Jose (Jose Jose)

One Sunday afternnon this young man saw his first bullfight

And his blood ran hot and he couldn’t sleep that night

And as the morning came he thought he heard his mother say

Now you know why you were born Jose

And he lived for one thing and nothing more

He had to be the very best matador

And when he killed his first bull one bright Sunday

You could hear a lace a hundred miles for Jose (Jose Jose)

And as his fame grew his fortune grew too

But he gave much of this fortune away

Because he knew that other’s fight is old enemy hunger every day

And so many times he heard God bless you Jose

And the years passed and Jose said I’ll fight great bulls no more

The younger men they better sooth it for

The Sunday game with its blood and its death to pay

You’ll soon forget the matador Jose (Jose Jose)

And the next morning we found him lying on the ground

He didn’t move he didn’t make a sound

And yet we heard from somewhere someone say

Welcome home my little boy Jose (Jose Jose Jose Jose)