I remember the conga drums,

And hearing the crowd roar,

Couldn’t make the sums,

But they were cheering for more.

In a Latin American band,

My very first summer,

Our music never bland,

I was the conga drummer.

Doing the national tours,

Though it was often tough,

There were many lures,

And I couldn’t get enough.

To play the salsa beat,

And the merengue groove,

To be dancing in the street,

With all the sensual moves.

Watching people dancing,

Playing at the casino,

I knew as I was glancing,

I was proud to be Latino.

To be Latino is to dance,

And to sway your sexy hips,

Natural in romance,

You’re out to kiss some lips.

To be Latino is to fashion,

The way to look so slick,

Your heart is filled with passion,

You just don’t miss a trick.

Latinos love to party,

We love to have some fun,

We take a friend like Marty,

To say ‘hi’ to everyone.

We enjoy our great cuisine,

Traditional in style,

Who cares about the lean?

We like to eat the pile.

But we don’t like the hype,

That says we cause the trouble,

We’re not a stereotype,

Think beyond the bubble.

We’re not all into drugs,

We’re not all into gangs,

We’re not the city thugs,

Shooting out the bangs.

We work really hard,

But I like to take a siesta,

Pruning up the yard,

Before running to the fiesta.

We love to hit piñatas,

With all the candy to give,

To be Latino is to charter,

A valid course to live.

I know I am no hero,

But I love to say out loud,

That I’m a true Latino,

And of this I know I’m proud!