El Caballo Blanco

This is the ballad of the white horse
That on a happy Sunday it would begin
He was aiming to reach the North
Having left Guadalajara

His noble rider took the reins from him
I took the chair away from him and he left on his own
He crossed Nayarit lands like lightning
Between green hills and the blue sky

At a slower pace I arrive at Escuinapa
And he was already staying in Culiacán
They say that in Los Mochis it was already falling apart
His entire snout was bleeding

But they watched him pass through Sonora
And the Yaqui Valley gave him its tenderness
They say he limped on his left leg
And despite everything, he continued his adventure

I got to Hermosillo, then continued on to Caborca
And because of Mexicali, he felt like he was dying
He climbed step by step up La Rumorosa
Arriving in Tijuana with daylight
Having accomplished his feat, he went to Rosarito
And he didn't want to lie down until he saw Ensenada
And this was the ballad of the white horse
He left Guadalajara on a Sunday