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The Lowest of the Low
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For the Hand of Magdelena (Live)
You couldn't believe when they told you
that she'd never been 'round here before
Thought she hung out in the Cologne
Hotel, or with the Cubans in the Puerta Del Sol
And when she smiled all you thought about was running up Suicide Hill
And nothing short of a bullet could've broken your will
And all for the hand of Magdelena
Your boots planted in the soil of Spain
(Your heart broken in the soil of Spain)
(Your blood's red like the soil of Spain)
Like her tears in the Spanish rain
All for the Hand of Magdelena
Clark Gable with a bayonet,
you never thought anyone could look so cool
And she could handle that Soviet
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pistol like she learned to do it in school
You fell in love in an air raid, a bombshell sanctioned attraction
You were wet with fear, she was wet with passion
Your mother could never understand why her son took the call to arms
And her father could never understand how
she could fall for your Republican charms
Magdelena, Magdelena, Magdelena... the choice was never ours
In a week and a half you'll be walking down Forty-second street again
And you can read it in the New York
Times they're plagiarizing Ernest Hemingway
And you can touch that spot where a
fascist bullet nearly severed your arm
But that's nothing like the way that your soul was scarred
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