El Cañón
El luchador comes in low
Both fists flying
He's got a thick brow
And a crooked nose
He means to do damage
With the punches he throws
They call him El Cañón
But his real name is Beto
His hands are like hammers
His body solid as a tree
As the legend has it
He was punching at age three
But his madre claims:
"He was punching inside of me"
El Cañón punched his way out
Into a world of scorn
He won his first bout
By just being born
Boxing was his fate
What God told him to do
It's why he fought so hard
And could go so many rounds
No one could touch him
At 140 pounds
He never stopped throwing
As he punched his way north
Through all the tiny towns
From Toluca to Tepic
Take on the local star
Give him a savage beating
And then on to the bar
For women and drinking
Ahora....
El Cañón esta borracho
He's fighting again
Some clueless muchacho
Who thinks he can win
Una pelea en la cantina
Not a pretty sight
Soon bottles are broken
And screams fill the night
Beto is bleeding
From a gash on the cheek
Then a bottle comes flying
And breaks out his teeth
Two men are on him
Dragging him to the floor
Three more are kicking
But theres help at the door
La Policia have arrived
With billy clubs and dogs
They restore the order
El Cañón is set free...
And heads for the border
On to Mazatlan
To fight some old man
He'll make enough money
To get to Culiacan
Where he records a quick KO
El Cañón drops him cold
With a brutal right hook
Against a prideful town hero
His record moves to fifty and zero
Promoters in the crowd
Have El Cañón in mind
For a card in Nogales
Against a tough welterweight
If he wins it would bring
A fight in the States
Beto signs quick
Gets robbed in the deal
But its them he will trick
For he wont take a dive
A night in Nogales
Raining and cold
Gamblers are assured:
"He'll do what he's told"
After three or four rounds
Bettors are sweating
El Cañón is winning
He can't hear the sound
Of the man in the front row
On the canvas he pounds
Giving him a reminder...
Of when to go down
Round seven comes
Beto is still dancing
His opponent retreating
El Cañón flashes a grin
An upper cut, jab and hook
All land square on the chin
The poor kid goes down
He's not getting up
The promoter is muttering
"El Cañón is out of luck"
Men with guns and connections
Are in the training room
El Cañón is still in the ring
Young ladies are swooning
The press is snapping pics
Rumors are swirling
The fight was to be fixed
They are coming for him now
To take him from the spotlight
To drag him out in the desert
For not throwing the fight
In back of the arena
A white van is parked
Four men with guns
Await in the dark
El Cañón is hustled
Out a side exit
With a smile on his face
He'll soon disappear
Without any trace
They throw him in the van
Grins turn to grim white...
Teeth flashing in the night
No Policia can save him
For El Cañón its the end
On the outskirts of town
Stripped naked of his clothes
Except for his gloves
And a bloody blindfold
He's pushed into prickly pear
Tough skin ripping in the cold
Then dragged through the rocks
For not doing what he was told
But his heart felt no fear
As the bullets punched through him
When the coyotes started to howl
He spoke his final words
Which he said through a scowl:
"I did what I was told
I showed up and I fought
And though it will kill me
I listened to God"
R.I.P El Cañón
1970 - 2003
JA 9/1/11
Both fists flying
He's got a thick brow
And a crooked nose
He means to do damage
With the punches he throws
They call him El Cañón
But his real name is Beto
His hands are like hammers
His body solid as a tree
As the legend has it
He was punching at age three
But his madre claims:
"He was punching inside of me"
El Cañón punched his way out
Into a world of scorn
He won his first bout
By just being born
Boxing was his fate
What God told him to do
It's why he fought so hard
And could go so many rounds
No one could touch him
At 140 pounds
He never stopped throwing
As he punched his way north
Through all the tiny towns
From Toluca to Tepic
Take on the local star
Give him a savage beating
And then on to the bar
For women and drinking
Ahora....
El Cañón esta borracho
He's fighting again
Some clueless muchacho
Who thinks he can win
Una pelea en la cantina
Not a pretty sight
Soon bottles are broken
And screams fill the night
Beto is bleeding
From a gash on the cheek
Then a bottle comes flying
And breaks out his teeth
Two men are on him
Dragging him to the floor
Three more are kicking
But theres help at the door
La Policia have arrived
With billy clubs and dogs
They restore the order
El Cañón is set free...
And heads for the border
On to Mazatlan
To fight some old man
He'll make enough money
To get to Culiacan
Where he records a quick KO
El Cañón drops him cold
With a brutal right hook
Against a prideful town hero
His record moves to fifty and zero
Promoters in the crowd
Have El Cañón in mind
For a card in Nogales
Against a tough welterweight
If he wins it would bring
A fight in the States
Beto signs quick
Gets robbed in the deal
But its them he will trick
For he wont take a dive
A night in Nogales
Raining and cold
Gamblers are assured:
"He'll do what he's told"
After three or four rounds
Bettors are sweating
El Cañón is winning
He can't hear the sound
Of the man in the front row
On the canvas he pounds
Giving him a reminder...
Of when to go down
Round seven comes
Beto is still dancing
His opponent retreating
El Cañón flashes a grin
An upper cut, jab and hook
All land square on the chin
The poor kid goes down
He's not getting up
The promoter is muttering
"El Cañón is out of luck"
Men with guns and connections
Are in the training room
El Cañón is still in the ring
Young ladies are swooning
The press is snapping pics
Rumors are swirling
The fight was to be fixed
They are coming for him now
To take him from the spotlight
To drag him out in the desert
For not throwing the fight
In back of the arena
A white van is parked
Four men with guns
Await in the dark
El Cañón is hustled
Out a side exit
With a smile on his face
He'll soon disappear
Without any trace
They throw him in the van
Grins turn to grim white...
Teeth flashing in the night
No Policia can save him
For El Cañón its the end
On the outskirts of town
Stripped naked of his clothes
Except for his gloves
And a bloody blindfold
He's pushed into prickly pear
Tough skin ripping in the cold
Then dragged through the rocks
For not doing what he was told
But his heart felt no fear
As the bullets punched through him
When the coyotes started to howl
He spoke his final words
Which he said through a scowl:
"I did what I was told
I showed up and I fought
And though it will kill me
I listened to God"
R.I.P El Cañón
1970 - 2003
JA 9/1/11
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