Los Pescadores

My feet, they are naked, my hands on my hips My eyes to the ocean, and open my lips Ee-ah, oh, los pescadores They come with a crash on the crest of a roar And they're out of their boats and they're on to the shore Ee-ah oh, los pescadores And they wrench with the wave, and they strain with the rope They dig in the sand and they bend to the smoke Ee-ah, oh, los pescadores And the weight of the men and the sound of the sea The hardness of them and the softness of me Ee-ah, oh, los pescadores And I'll stand with the fishermen, silent and gay I'll eat off the sun and I'll drink off the spray Ee-ah, oh, los pescadores Ee-ah, oh, los pescadores