El Caballo de Pepito

Pepito had a horse
That only he would ride
It was a white stallion
Standing seven hands high
Oh, what a beautiful beast
It just needed to talk

José wanted that horse
He worshipped it like a god
Every day, bright and early
He'd wash it and saddle it up
And the stallion, just for fun
Would rear up and whinny

From Laredo to Terán
It never lost a race
Oh, what a beautiful beast
It ran like a wildcat
From Porvenir to San Juan
Left folks in the dust

But fate is so cruel
And no one can resist it
It wanted that steed
To lose its sight one day
It never ran again
Neither on the plains nor the track

To end its suffering
José shot it three times
That's how it had to die
That one who was a lightning bolt in life
This is the end of the story
Of Pepito and his horse