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Up here in the land of the hot-dog stand
The atom bomb and the Good Humor Man
We think our South American neighbors are grand
We love 'em to beat the band

South America, baba-loo, baba-loo, ay-ee-eh, baba-loo
One favor you can do, ay-ee-eh, you can do
You beautiful lands below
Don't know what you began
To put it plainly, I'm tired of shakin'
To that Pan-American plan

Take back your Samba, ay!,
Your Rumba, ay!,
Your Conga, ay-yi-yi!
I can't keep shaking', ay!,
My rumble, ay!,
Any longer, ay-yi-yi!
Now maybe Latins, ay!,
In their middles, ay!,
Are built stronger, ay-yi-yi!
But all this makin' with the quakin'
And the shakin' of the bacon leaves me achin', olé!

First you shake it and put it there
Then you shake it and you put it here
Then you shake it and put it there
That's enough, that's enough
Take it back, my spine's outta-whack

There's a great big sack
In the back of my sacroilliac

Take back your Conga, ay!,
Your Samba, ay!,
Your Rumba, ay-yi-yi!
Why can't you send us, ay!,
A less strenu-, ay!, -ous number, ay-yi-yi!
It's getting so now, ay!
That even, ay!
In slumber, ay-yi-yi!
I hear the rockin'of Maraka's
And the knocking of the naka's
In my carcas, olé
This fancy swishin' imposition wears out
All of my transmission ammunition, olé!
I know there is danger really lurking
If my rear end keeps on working at this jerking, olé
South America, take it away

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