Eran Cien Ovejas

There were a hundred sheep that were in the flock
There were a hundred sheep that a lover took care of
But in one afternoon, when I counted them all
He was missing one, he was missing one and sad, he cried

The ninety-nine left in the sheepfold
And through the mountains to look for her, he went
He found her moaning, shivering from the cold
He anointed her wounds, took her in his arms and to the fold, he returned

This same story repeats itself
There are still sheep that wander
Who go through the world, without God and without faith

The ninety-nine left in the sheepfold
And through the mountains to look for her, he went
He found her moaning, shivering from the cold
He anointed her wounds, took her in his arms and to the fold, he returned

Went back