Basta Ya

In the sway of my cart
this lament was born
buddy pay attention
because here begins my quatrain.

When will I arrive,
when will I arrive at the hut.

Dawn is approaching
the roosters are singing
buddy they are announcing
that the workday is coming.

Sad life of the cart driver
who walks through those sugarcane fields
knowing that his life is an exile
he finds joy in his songs.

Work for the Yankee
work as a cart driver
sweating for money
that is not seen in hand.

Enough already, enough already
let the Yankee boss around!

The Yankee lives in a palace,
I live in a barrack,
how is it possible that the Yankee
lives better than me?

What about my brothers
from Mexico and Panama?
Their parents were slaves,
their children will not be.