Al Cafe y a Los Caballos

A good thing is to sleep
A good thing is to sleep under a savannah cane
With a good blanket, good hammock and hangers
And a breeze drilling through the mosquito net

When summer is coming
It breezes deliciously on the plain in December or January
That's when in those estates the llaneros get excited
Because the work is coming and there's a cowboy meeting

To coffee and horses!
The foreman of the estate shouts encouraging the workers
Get those people ready
He tells the horseman
Tie me to the chestnut of the iron palm tree

Bridles for the boys to tighten the sweet potatoes
With those fierce animals
Give the trustworthy men the bridle horses
Let them move their legs hard because there are wild cattle

With rope, saw, and knife
The crew goes herding the mares
To incorporate into the herd, under that summer sun
And in that great hustle, the most accurate are pressed

Then the oxen are separated
And the foreman selects with his leather overseer
The neighbor's cattle, the cows with their calves
The old cows to exchange for money

Then heading to the pen
The foreman drives along with the flankers
And on the sides, alert pointers and counterpointers
While the cattle follow the cattleman's steps

They are enclosed by the afternoon
And a couple of spirited boys parallel the gates well
Then each one hurries to the unsaddling place
From there, the horses are bathed to release them to the pasture

The fun at night
Begins because there is always a damn joker
Who is attentive to the slightest mistake of his companions
Who grabs onto a joke and makes the moment enjoyable

Another thing that never fails
Is a cunning scoundrel, a lazy one, and a sly one
A scruffy one and a tough one, a crazy one and a liar
A good meat roaster, the stew and a joker

The llano is running out!
Many proclaim it, I don't consider it that way
It happens that many criollos came to the town
And now they have taken a dislike to the mud and thorns

For me, the llano is not ending
I say it in my criollo, relancino, and haughty song
As long as there are born lickers in the estuaries
There will be savannah and socks full of wild cattle