| On my black horse
|
| I’ve come from very far
|
| I carry a gun on my belt
|
| And with it I give advice
|
| I crossed the mountain
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| To come and see the flowers
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| There’s no hill too steep for me
|
| No old nag can slow my pace
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| Even if another wants to pick her
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| It is I who saw her first
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| And I swear I have to steal her
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| Even if she has a gardener
|
| I have to see her transplanted
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| To the garden of my house
|
| And if the gardener shows up
|
| We’ll see what happens
|
| Me gusta cantarle al viento
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| Porque vuelan mis cantares
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| Y digo lo que yo siento
|
| Por toditos los lugares
|
| Aquí vine porque vine
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| A la feria de las flores
|
| Aquí hay una rosa huraña
|
| Que es la flor de mis amores
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| En mi caballo retinto
|
| He venido de muy lejos
|
| Y traigo pistola al cinto
|
| Y con ella doy consejos
|
| Atravesé la montaña
|
| Pa' venir a ver las flores
|
| No hay cerro que se me empine
|
| Ni cuaco que se me atore
|
| Aunque otro quiera cortarla
|
| Yo la divisé primero
|
| Y juro que he de robarla
|
| Aunque tenga jardinero
|
| Yo la he de ver trasplantada
|
| En el huerto de mi casa
|
| Y si sale el jardinero
|
| Pues a ver, a ver que pasa
|
| I like to sing to the winds
|
| Because my songs take flight
|
| And so I say what I feel
|
| To every little place
|
| I came here because I came
|
| For the flower fair
|
| Here there is a wild flower
|
| That is the flower of my love |