He came from mountains to our little town And he never spoke a word. But he played every day in a lovely way Little tunes I had never heard. When he played his flute His eyes seemed to be like mirrors of gone by. don't know if I saw what I should not see But I looked right into his heart. I looked right into heart.
I found out one evening only by chance Where he spent his lonely nights. There he slept in the church on the marble floor And flute lay by his side. As I woke him up and said ”Won't you come to my house where it's nice and warm” He said ”Please let me be, I am not free And I don't break your heart I don't wanna break your heart”
When early one morning I came to the place Where he to play his flute. He was gone but a song that will never die Seemed to linger on in the sky. He's an Indio boy And his folks far away they are praying Indio boy home when you are a man.
He's an Indio Boy and he longs for the girl who is waiting Indio Boy come home as as you can..