El Chorrito

The drop of water that falls from the cloud
As a gift for the flower
It vanishes into vapor
When the sun rises
And rises back to the sky
To the cloud that let it go
The little drop goes up and down
Down and up
To the rhythm of this song

There in the fountain
There was a little stream
It grew big
It grew small
There in the fountain
There was a little stream
It was in a bad mood
Poor little stream was hot
It was in a bad mood
Poor little stream was hot

In the always snowy landscape
Curled up on the volcano
There are millions of little drops
Turned into crystal
In winter the snow grows
In summer the sun melts it
The little drop goes up and down
Down and up
To the rhythm of this song

There goes the ant
With her umbrella
And gathering up her skirts
There goes the ant
With her umbrella
And gathering up her skirts
Because the little stream splashed her
And stained her little plates
Because the little stream splashed her
And stained her little plates