Ezequiel Rodrígues

Year of 41, December for sure month
There was a death in 'la osada', a Saturday twenty-three

When Ezequiel arrived at the dance, and he talked to them
Respect me, I am your father, agrarists of 'la osada'

God entrusted me with a head, and here I bring it in my sight
Tonight I will send it, it must be from an agrarist

Anselmo pulled out a gun, and Ezequiel pulled out his
Because he thought that everyone was his

After Ezequiel fell, not even his hands moved
All the people shouted, long live Anselmo García

They left all the way, heading to Linares
With Ezequiel badly wounded, without his family knowing

Goodbye chestnut horse, I won't ride you again
They take me to Linares, they take me to bury

At the foot of my grave, I wish for my gun
They killed a gunman, from the people of Atareo