Corrido Del Caballo Blanco

This is the ballad of the white horse
That on a happy Sunday took off
With the aim of reaching the north
Having left Guadalajara

His noble rider took off the reins, took off the saddle
And rode bareback
He crossed like lightning through Nayarit lands
Between green hills and the blue sky

At a slower pace, he reached Escuinapa
And by Culiacán, he was starting to tire
They say that in Los Mochis, he was stumbling
With his whole snout bleeding

But they saw him pass through Sonora
And the Yaqui Valley gave him its warmth
They say he was limping on his left leg
And despite everything, he continued his journey

He made it to Hermosillo, kept going to Caborca
And by Mexicali, he felt he was dying
Step by step he climbed La Rumorosa
Arriving in Tijuana with the light of day

Having accomplished his feat, he reached Rosarito
And he didn’t want to rest until he saw Ensenada
This was the ballad of the white horse that set out
On a Sunday from Guadalajara