Negrita Martina

Listen, little black Martina
The small song that the king is going to leave
And put a little speck on the pillow
Because you are tired of waiting so much

Your mother is at the stream
Washing the clothes of Miss Leonor
Your father has returned tired
He didn't sell a duster, he brought a flower

Martina, Melchor already knows
'You don't eat roses; you need bread'
Magi king of the poor children
He didn't bring you flour, just a song

Embrace, little black Martina
The small song that the king left you
And put a little speck on the pillow
Because you are tired of waiting so much