Guitar Polka
A cowboy rode one day
Down to old Monterey
Across the sleepy Rio Grande
He met a lovely gal
A senorita pal
With eyes that seemed to understand
And as guitars were softly playing
Across the floor they soon were swaying
Me like a you she kept on saying
As he would gently squeeze her hand
She say Me like to talk,
We take a little walk
It was the nearest thing to heaven
To have and hold her fast
That night of love soon past
He rode away from old Monterey
And left her alone to pine