Corrido Del Caballo Blanco

This is the ballad of the white horse
That on a happy Sunday set off
It aimed to reach the north
Having left Guadalajara

Its noble rider took off the reins, took off the saddle
And went bareback
It crossed like lightning through Nayarit lands
Among green hills and the blue of the sky

At a slower pace, it reached Escuinahuatl
And by Culiacán, it was already slowing down
They say in the mountains it was falling
With its whole muzzle bleeding

But they saw it pass through Sonora
And the Yaqui Valley gave it tenderness
They say it limped on the left leg
And despite everything, it continued its adventure

It reached Hermosillo
Kept going to Caborca
And in Mexicali, it felt like dying
It climbed step by step through La Rumorosa
Arriving in Tijuana with the daylight

Having completed its feat, it arrived in Rosarito
And didn't rest until seeing Ensenada
This was the ballad of the white horse that left
One Sunday from Guadalajara