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While Swedish Sylvia sang the lines with faux, eyelash-fluttering innocence, British lovers of Carry On-style double-entendres must have relished:
Each time I kissed him behind the castanet He rattled his maracas close to me, In no time I was trembling at the knee.The song was also a hit in Spain, but it wasn’t translated word for word. Given that the original was a paean to a romanticized Spain, one can understand why the Spanish lyricist Manuel de Gómez’s chest swelled with patriotic pride as he penned lines such as:
Only God could make so much beauty, And it’s impossible that there can be two. And everyone knows that it’s true, And they cry when they have to leave.If the Spanish lyrics sound a mite triumphalist, bear in mind that de Gómez was working at the Spanish embassy (embajada) in Brussels at the time and that Franco was still in power. The chorus (el estribillo) runs as follows:
That’s why you hear this saying: Hurrah for Spain! And they’ll always remember her. Hurrah for Spain! People sing with passion: Hurrah for Spain! Life has a different taste, And Spain is the best.So, to round off this extravaganza, I can do no better than treat you to this colourful, life-enhancing version by the late Manolo Escobar.
1 By Leo Caerts and Leo Rozenstraten. 2 Spanish verbs may at first feel daunting. But actually, the basic endings number a mere handful. “Viva” is the subjunctive of the –ir verb vivir. The subjunctive of such verbs uses the ordinary present tense endings of any –ar verb. So, vivir goes viva, vivas, viva, viv…, viv…, viv…. Can you complete the last three shown? 3 Here go the lyrics: All the ladies fell for Rudolph Valentino He had a beano back in those balmy days. He knew every time you meet an icy creature, You’ve got to teach her hot-blooded Latin ways But even Rudy would have felt the strain, Of making smooth advances in the rain. (Chorus) Oh, this year I’m off to Sunny Spain, Y Viva España! I’m taking the Costa Brava ‘plane, Y Viva España! If you’d like to chat a matador, in some cool cabaña And meet senoritas by the score, España, por favor! Quite by chance to hot romance I found the answer, Flamenco dancers are far the finest bet. There was one who whispered ‘Whoo, hasta la vista!’ Each time I kissed him behind the castanet. He rattled his maracas close to me, In no time I was trembling at the knee. Chorus repeats When they first arrive, the girls are pink and pasty But, oh, so tasty, as soon as they go brown. I guess they know ev’ry fellow will be queuing To do the wooing his girlfriend won’t allow. But every dog must have his lucky day, That’s why I’ve learnt the way to shout ‘Olé!’ Oh, this year I’m off to Sunny Spain, Y Viva España! I’m taking the Costa Brava ‘plane, Y Viva España! If you’d like to chat a matador, in some cool cabaña And meet señoritas by the score, España, por favor! España, por favor! Olé!
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Thank you so much for this fascinating, enlightening account – and for triggering the earworm that has plagued me on-and-off now for 42 years.
The pleasure is mine, Zasi. Or, as they say “Pues, ¡por nada, hombre!
¡Muy bueno, Jeremy! Y eso que yo sólo conozco la canción de Manolo Escobar!!
Me alegro de haberte introducido en el mundo de la canción kitsch, Paloma. xx
God, those lyrics really are dismal. Right down there with “Darling, feeling mighty lonesome, call you on the phone, some …” Or the Venga Boys turning Ibiza into Ibitsa. (Reminds me of my obsession with Delia Smith and her “choritso”) Are you really off to sunny Spain again? If so, buen viaje! 🙂
“Dismal” – I can rely on you, dear friend, to find exactly the right word, and THAT is the right word for those lyricks. I’ve done sunny Spain for this year, at least, but thanks anyway for the best wishes for the “journey.” Like you, “choritso” grates: there’s a blog there somewhere (including “makko” and “makkizmo”).
I wonder why you use “the fateful year of 1971” instead of just “the fateful year 1971” – can it really be proper to insert “of” between two nouns (whether single words or phrases) in apposition, where there is no partitive or possessive connection between them? Is it perhaps a contraction of “the fateful year of our Lord 1971”?
But I’m in total agreement about that awful song – and fortunately I have never (yet) heard it sung in Spain, not in English, not in Spanish, nor in any other language. When the tourists in these parts want Spanish songs they are more likely to ask for Ave María en el Morro or Un beso y una flor or Perfidia or Granada than Y Viva España. I’ve heard people ask for it and be told the singer doesn’t know it – I guess that’s a more acceptable than “I don’t sing such rubbish”.
My daughter was born in 1970 and this was one of her favourite jolly songs I have her singing on tape from those early years. For that reason thanks for the reminder.
Hi, David.
Thanks for the comment. How sweet! I’m glad you enjoyed the read.