[verse]
In some cuban town
You stop watching an old maker of shawls:
A quaint little man
Whose gay colored bazaar... stands near the walls.
He smiles through his beard
And spins heavenly dreams... for ev'ry maid.
A shawl in his hand,
His call reaches their hearts... as they parade.

My shawl
Pretty lady,
Try it on you.
Buy my shawl
Spun in magic,
Wishes come true.

It's glory
Weaves a story
Of love, dreams
Old but new.
My shawl
Brings a romance
Maybe for you.
Maybe for you.

Ooh-oo-oo ooh-oo