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March 19th
I have it present
The rosillo of the mountain range
In San Fernando he ran
The horses that ran
They were not big nor were they small
The poor man's rosillo
The sorrel of the rich
Those from Bamopa shouted
With bags of money
"There are ten thousand pesos left over here"
"To the sorrel for being light!"
Those from Mocorito said
"Enough of all the fuss!"
"We ran out of money"
"We have oxen and cows left."
The runner of the rosillo
They called him the "Green Devil"
Let me form the picture
If this race is lost
The one who ran the sorrel
Man of great value
If I lose this race
I won't be a runner again
About eleven forty
They tear themselves away from the party
About fifty rods
The light one was left behind
Chona Guzmán said
With her table on one side
"Whatever can do the most for me"
"Twenty reales that I have bet"
The rosillo is already leaving
They take him to the mountains
Go and be miserable
Go steal from your land
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