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A long time ago in a village near Cairns, There lived a hero known as "El Capitan"
He wasn't too pushy, he wasn't too bossy, But in no time at all he'd gathered a posse.
They were meaty and cheesy and hot, like burritos, And they called themselves "El Marron Banditos"!
Unshaven, as one, for many Novembers, And now, let us say, "Hello," to the members...
It started with a man, a man with a plan, A man they called "El Capitan".
He came in from the rain - out of the blue, He looked kind of Italian, so they called him "The Jew".
With eyeballs that darted like drunken flies, Who can it be now? It's "Crazy Eyes".
Bumbling with tongue, and slow with his feet, "Old Peedro": where poetry and motion do meet.
They called him a coward, they called him a jerk, They called him "Pendejo" - oh yes, that will work.
With the best Mo in Mexico, and the second best in France, "El Moriachi" can't sing, play, or dance.
Some say he never blinks, and drinks nothing but lager, And he's known only as "The Big Enchilada".
The posse received one of them telegrams, They were holding a poker tournament up there in Cairns.
Players were coming from all over the land, To (no pun intended) try out their hand.
When El Marron Banditos arrived at the gate, They were met by a damsel who was in quite a state.
She said, "Help us, oh please, we're scared to our bones!" "Our town has been taken by villainous clones!"
El Marron Banditos were willing and able, So they paid their admission, and sat at the table.
Each man was confident in his own way, Even if they didn't know quite how to play.
Their opponents were known around Cairns for their sins, A cruel bunch, calling themselves "Cleanskins".
They were so mean! They were so feared! And one had a terrible, fake looking beard.
Their leader looked on with a scowl and a twitch, He sure was a mean, twisted son-of-a-
gun.
The villagers knew him as "El Diablo", And he lived with his gang where no man dare go.
Those villainous gringos - always wanting more, They picked on the weak and the meek and the poor.
"Oh please sir, not this week, I'm down on my luck!" But those dastardly Cleanskins did not give a
darn.
The deal, and the hole, and flop, turn, and river. The game seemed to be neither hither nor thither.
And just as it looked as though luck had run thin, El Marron Banditos started to win.
Hand after hand, they played into the night, But El Marron Banditos smelled something not right.
The dealer turned his head and he gave a nod, El Marron Banditos thought something was odd.
The dealer was sprung! The game - it was rigged! And up they all jumped, to dance the death jig.
The day: it was won, and the townsfolk did cheer, The whiskey flowed freely, and so did the beer.
As the word spread, oh it didn't take long, For the townsfolk to set these exploits to song.
El Marron Banditos were cunning and brave and Strong and noble and free and unshaven.
They gave back the townsfolk the winnings they'd won, And rode off, like lightning, into the sun.
Now if you're got a dollar, please don't hesitate, To visit the website and donate.