Milonga Maragata

I am an inheritance of Maragato
The old caudillo race!
I have Farroupilha blood
Galloping in my veins
In the struggles of thirty-five
I walked through the hills
Entangled in the reins
Plotting steel in fights

Chiripá of white sack
Tied handkerchief and spread socks
And a mare that revels
In the disheveled mane
At the waist, the butcher,
Companion of slaughter!
And a 'forty' ring
To secure the herd

Carcass of pure flesh
Forged in quapa temper
With the rough farrapa stamp
I planted a bad tenancy
And the descent of the race
I sowed in the echo of the bellow
Playing with iron thirds
With chimango and woodpecker

White iron flashes
The musket also thunders
In this gaucho milonga
That, as a tough guy, doesn't get tangled
Fighting and laughing!
Because a man is known
It's behind the dagger's 'S'

Under the bad weather
Only courage sustains!
Tools may be lacking
But the warrior fiber abounds
For those who inherit the lineage
Of the noble farrapo blood
Only die burning rags
Fighting through the hills

With the libertarian instinct
And the skill of a frontiersman
I was a warrior bugle
Shaping Rio Grande
For with shouts and pelegaço
I made the homeland I belong to
Lead to a handkerchief
Maragato with blood