El Trapiche
Canta'Oras Del Patía
The Mill
When the little mules come in
With their small cane load
They look like leaf-cutting ant
With no rest along the day
Little red flags, little green flags
And with their heads, they hold them up
Greeting to the mountain
To the canes and to the leaves
Greeting to the mountain
To the canes and to the leaves
Mill, grind, grind
Don José's sugarcane
Cane mill, grind, grind
Don José's sugarcane
The little humped canes
That I brought from Saint Joachim
To drink a guarapo
And alfandoque with anise
A basin of sweet water
And a big plate of birimbí
My black head dessert
And anisse molasses
Cane mill, grind, grind
Don José's sugarcane
Cane mill, grind, grind
Don José's sugarcane
Where is the cane?
It's become guarapo
Where is the guarapo
It's turned molasses
Where is the molasses?
It's turned panela
Where the panela
It's already gone to sell
It is in kitchen
It is in the belly
It's in the tenderness
It's in the smile
Cane mill, grind, grind
Don José's sugarcane
Cane mill, grind, grind
Don José's sugarcane
The little humped canes
That I brought from Saint Joachim
To drink a guarapo
And alfandoque with anise
A basin of sweet water
And a big plate of birimbí
My black head dessert
And anisse molasses
Cane mill, grind, grind
Don José's sugarcane
Cane mill, grind, grind
Don José's sugarcane
Where is the cane?
It's become guarapo
Where is the guarapo
It's turned molasses
Where is the molasses?
It's turned panela
Where the panela
It's already gone to sell
It is in kitchen
It is in the belly
It's in the tenderness
It's in the smile
Cane mill, grind, grind
Don José's sugarcane
Cane mill, grind, grind
Don José's sugarcane
