Ay mari cruz

It's Mary Cross, the little fly,
The prettiest in the neighborhood of Santa Cruz.
The old Jewish neighborhood, a flowery rose garden,
Has given her roses of light.

And from the Macarena,
They come to admire her
For her dark little face
Makes men dream.

And one moonlit night
The silence was broken
By the Moorish guitar
And a voice that sang

Oh, Mary Cross, Mary Cross!
Wonderful woman;
From the neighborhood of Santa Cruz
You are a red nail.
My path is only you
And to swear that
I found myself imprisoned by love
For your eyes, Mary Cross.
Oh, Mary Cross, Mary Cross!

It was like a feather in the wind
The oath and his love he betrayed.
And without leaving a trace,
Behind her, the girl Sevilla left.

People look without sorrow
At her gate without a rose
Because of that dark flower
None knew how to call.

There was only one man
Who cried in his chains
Remembering her name
And sang this ballad