Desde La Cana

Hey, grela, hit the left-handed guy
That yesterday seems like a lie!
In court he sent me a strip
With the iron and the balurdo

And as I was cured
I beat the right one and ruined it
I got involved in the cigarette
To get the goruta clean
That the police had spotted him
Working in a company

Beat the big Peroca
Let the fool burn in the peephole
Along with my wickerwork
The cobbled and the marroca
That it reduces, even if it is a little
The kitchenware
My Moroccan tasbo
The clothes and the cot
And you... Hillside plantation
With the Pachín mine

If I get the shot right
And the judge dismisses the case
I think I'll be retired
To circulate in the yiro
That's why I stretch
On the question of the summary
Why you, to the secretary?
You work it with caution and
Who tells you, che grela
Clean me up, you idiot!

Anyway, I'm in jail
Without joints, badly dressed
From the evil-looking guard
Due to lack of chirola
Bring me (if you pay attention to me)
At least a goman, my daughter
Don't miss the visit
And remember this thing
That, although spouting and ranfañoso
He knows how to call you, Grelita!