Chacarera Del Pantano

(Chacarera)

Up the hill of the reeds,
I was singing like a local,
slowly and uphill,
and heading toward the swamp.

When I hit the path,
I spotted a little light,
the bar's having a party,
they call it La Serranita.

It's nice to see the wagons tied,
with the tarpaulin draped,
and to hear a guitar,
playing the chacarera.

Swamp chacarera,
it wakes up a longing in me,
the locals are stomping,
my horse hasn’t eaten!

A local was watching the field,
praying to the sky for rain,
and he just stands there swatting,
like a rabbit in its burrow.

Pour some wine, Miss Rocha,
serve another round, ma'am,
you can smell the aroma,
of the goat barbecue.

Pour some wine, Miss Rocha,
don't try to charge me,
with cats and chacareras,
I'll make sure to pay you back.

Swamp chacarera,
it wakes up a longing in me,
the locals are stomping,
my horse hasn’t eaten!