Song: Señor Zorro Rides Again! Poem by Dave SmithWhite

They are saying in the pueblo,
Señor Zorro rides again.
Talking treason with their dominoes,
The gossip of old men.
And he's playing in the barrio,
The accursed 'people's friend'.
In a crudely worked scenario,
To twist rude minds, and bend.

But he's no bandit hero,
Who lives on Sherwood's green;
But the hooded robber zero,
Within every dull thieves mien.
Is he a non-man, 'Nemo'?
Some skeptics always ask.
Is larceny, a credo,
For one who wears a mask?

He says he only borrows,
Mere trifles from the rich;
Those who've never known true sorrow,
Or life, lived in a ditch.
He's consulted learned scholars,
In their ivory towered niche.
And knows that he who hollers
Loud, will surely make his pitch.

In his study of the horrors,
He first turned to the church.
But to clerics in starched collars,
He condemned their lofty perch.
He railed at soft indulgences,
With the pontiff's name besmirched.
And aroused the sly intelligences,
Who punished him with birch.

There is praying in the curia
That Señor Zorro will be undone.
He's stirred up all the peasants,
Who rant how freedom's won.
He is a dangerous poseur;
A ne're-do-well and cheat.
But he has presence in the countryside,
And on the village street.

There's a saying, that tomorrow,
Is a day that never comes.
But I vow that Señor Zorro,
Soon will hear my trooper's drums,
Beat quick time for the firing squad,
To set their roll of guns.
And send his soul, to his worthless god;
And his flesh, to rot in dung.

Now they're saying at the Bureau,
Señor Zorro rides again.
Christ-like on his burro,
To save downtrodden men.
So will this spectre harrow,
False prophets from their ken;
Unloose the swiftest arrow,
Or impale them with his pen?