Mocito

In the old days when I was young, I saddled the best horse
And on Sundays I would go out dressed in my finest clothes
Knowing the scale, a little wind blowing

Beautiful things I would embroider on the white fringes of the poncho
My black dapple horse with such well-kept fur
From my silver-plated gear, I copied the shine
And to embellish the style, just cheerful and mischievous

I would trot lightly like the song of the cricket
It was my young man's pleasure in the afternoons of horse racing
During the breaks between races, I would adjust the brim of my hat

And with my soul filled with joy and the Nazarenas singing
Strolling and flirting among the pretty girls
Returning in the early evening, when the pampas fall asleep

And nature seems to whisper in the voice of the rivers
I would bring without boredom, greeting the cowboy star
A well-flowered countryside verse whistling