[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