La Canelera

I saw you well, my shorty, I don't lose sight of you anymore
You may not be, but you look like the ones I have on my list
Serve her about three sweetened cinnamons with her hand
To drink them now, and a little later, we'll leave
And here it goes, Mr. Domingo Chavez
And the ones who give orders arrived, The Gfez

If there's anyone who gets upset among those in the group
I have five magazines, six shots in the gun
If there's anyone who gets upset because I treated you with love
I'm not afraid of gunshots, my life, nor of pains
Here's the farewell from the hilltops of a fig tree
Here they end singing verses of the canelera