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'Long the foothill, where the gazer Sees amid the tangled vines And the crooked manzanita, Su Chiquita! La bonita.
There's a little Mexic maiden,
Golden-haired and eyes of blue, With the springtime flowers laden,
Climbing down from where they grew. Dusky-haired and dark-eyed mother—
Though mayhap the question's bold— Whence those eyes of some one other, Whence the shining locks of gold ? Tell me, handsome Josepheta, Of Chiquita, La bonita.
Ah! I see yon caballero,
Riding thither down the trail— Now he lifts his broad sombrero, Shouts the Saxon's hearty hail, And the flax-haired caballero
Has Chiquita's eyes of blue, Shaded by his slouch sombrero Pretty answer that is, too. For the handsome Josepheta, And Chiquita, La bonita.