Here's the tale of Gringo Che

Another pig dead in the bay

Gringo Che, guerilla's gun

Shining in the Sun

Comandante, where ya going?

Without your pen and silver spoon

The army's coming for ya, son

Better cross the river soon

A rising hum enters the scene

Bullets cut through bleeding boots

There goes your chosen Argentine

Follow him, he calls to you

Down the ravine look there he goes

Follow him where he goes

Gringo Che in the afternoon

Hangs low in the bushy pines

Whistling comandante's tune

From a far off distant time

In the air, you can hear it come

The big red one

Get it done, get it done

It's the return of the chosen ones