La Gran Perdida de Alhama
Bia Krieger
The Great Loss of Alhama
The Moorish king was strolling
Through the city of Granada
From the Elvira gate
To the Vivarrambla gate
Letters had come to him
About Alhama being taken
Oh, my Alhama!
Oh, my Alhama
Oh, oh!
Up the Zacatín
He had climbed to the Alhambra
He ordered his trumpets to play
His silver bugles
So that the Moors could hear
Who were working in the fields
Oh, my Alhama!
Oh, my Alhama
Oh, oh!
There spoke an old alfaquí
With a long white beard
Why do you send for us, king
What was our call for?
So that you know, friends
The great loss of Alhama
Oh, my Alhama!
Oh, my Alhama
Oh, oh!
