Listen close to this crooked mouthnFor my story I will tell–o nI lived in Mexico by the name of Wenseslao Moguel–onLeft my home in SantiagonThe heart of the city of MeridanServed with my brothers and sisters allnFor the army of Pancho VillannStand me straight against the nearest wallnLine up your bravest soldiers ohnTen good shots I’ll take them allnThey call me El FusiladonnThe Federales captured menBound up my arms with wirenOfficer came he sad “Take your aim –nSteady your guns and fire!”nBullet holes all across my chestnRipped up my shirt and my body–onHeart beat on through the silenced gunsnTo the rhythm of life inside me–onnStand me straight against the nearest wall nLine up your bravest soldiers ohnTen good shots I’ll take them allnThey call me El FusiladonnFell to the ground, the officer camenOne last shot to the head–onHeard through the pain as he walked awaynAnd left me there for dead–onAll went quiet so I crawled awaynI wasn’t giving up to the glorynTen good shots I took them allnAnd lived to tell my storynnStand me straight against the nearest wallnLine up your bravest soldiers ohnTen good shots I’ll take them allnThey call me El FusiladonnStand me straight against the nearest wallnLine up your bravest soldiers ohnTen good shots I’ll take them allnThey call me El FusiladonnStand me straight against the nearest wallnLine up your bravest soldiers ohnTen good shots I’ll take them allnThey call me El Fusilado