[Verse:] In a magazine I read Where a certain author said That Latins are lousy lovers And it's a lie A libelous lie And who, tell me, who should know better than I? [Refrain:] Latins, they don't play baseball They're not so good with a rake or a plow They're not experts at making money But when it comes to making love A Latin knows how Latins, they don't like farming You seldom see Latins milking a cow In the daytime, they're always sleeping But in the night without much light A Latin knows how Englishmen and Yankees They've got quite a lot But that extra something They just haven't got Latins, they're so romantic They've got more oomph than the law will allow If you're married to a Latin Life is just smooth as satin For a Latin knows how