If a matador is able to kill the bull cleanly he is awarded the prize of the beasts ears. One for a good performance, but two if the performance is particularly skillful. The decision is entirely the matter for the president of the corrida. His decision is final. The crowd may however have their input and often do very demonstratively 

It was late, floodlight late and as in football stadia
The Plaza De Toros was no exception
A floodlit killing field was all that could be expected

But why Signor?
Why not start at 6 oclock in the late after noon
Oh of course signor forgive me siesta
Heaven blessed her if I forget again
But I was tired and had seen enough
Yet as the last bull A black devil of a beast
With horns like razors crashed forth
my attention was rejuvenated

It stopped some 20 yards inside the inner ring
Then  watched with malevolennt eyes the gladiatorial procession before him  
It  pawed the ground then lowered it great head and charged
The first torero took evasive action just in time to save his ass
The second with a competant pass and a swirl of the cape
Turned the bull again and again

Sweet Veronicas the aficianado name for skillful cape work
Always seemed to me inappropriate to the letting of blood
Suerte de morte, the final kill, appropriate enough
The phrase has the hardened edge of death
But Veronicas? Much too pretty a name for such as this 
In veiw of the late hour and the impatience of the crowd
The picadores were dispensed with
Julian Lopez ' El Juli' was on form and this bull
Was more than a match
Come the day the crowd would remember
'El Juli' was the best
Grandfathers would one day say unto their grandsons
I was there at Malaga and saw him do it

O' Toro! The cry rang out, Toro! a shake of the cape
And the beast charged turned sharply and narrowly missed
The matadors thigh the crowd was high Ole'
And the braas band didst play The guadrilla

No quarter passidoble Ole'! Ole'! was all they could say
Until a deathly hush came on the scene
The quietist it had been all evening this bull was different
This torero a master of the drama bolt erect as he select
The spot to which his sword must thrust
Just a fraction too far and the shock might jarr to a broken wrist
As the great hulk charged.
But never fear when I am here 'El Juli's' brave retort
I will kill him clean for there has been a dearth upon this sport
This very evening

And sighting down the the long thin blade 'El Juli' made his move
'O' toro' he called out softly 'toro the cape, look at the cape'
A twist of the cloth was all he hath to offer
Yet from the coffers of the beasts mind it saw a chance
To get even and in blind rage charged the empty cloth
With no more than wrath its defence

And the blade went home bypassing bone unto the hilt
With the bull full tilt he'd done it the only clean of the evening
the beast fell rolled and twitched it's last vestages of life
And spilled its blood in the yellow sand as to a man
The crowd all stand to demand for him the two
Then began to boo and shake white cloths yet failed to  stop
Presidential decree stubborn there'll be  no two ears for thee
'El Juli'

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