The Lost Charro

Godmother, when I die, make of my clay a jar

And when you are thirsty, drink from it

And if you feel a shadow, a shadow touching your lips

It's the kisses of your charro

Pull the leather strip from your hair

And your black tresses fall upon the dark skin of your shoulders

Your dress embroidered with gold

Moves like a choir of young girls, scarcely touching the ground

My rope winds as the smoke rises

Burning the horn of my saddle

My rope winds as the evening sun sets

And we bring in the cattle

The traditions of the Charro are the same eternally

No matter how much the horse changes

No matter how much the horseman may want

The cola is always the cola, the terna, the terna, the pial, the pial

My rope winds as the smoke rises

Burning the horn of my saddle

My rope winds as the evening sun sets

And we bring in the cattle

For two seasons, I've picked the lettuce in Salinas

The prunes in Santa Clara

The oranges from the Ontario trees

I've traded in my leather for the denim of my campesinos

Godmother, I'll return home soon, you'll see

And tonight in my dreams

My rope winds as smoke rises

Burning the horn of my saddle

My rope winds as the evening sun sets

And we bring in the cattle

Godmother, when I die, make of my clay a jar

And when you are thirsty, drink from it