La Mulita Prieta

I had always boasted
To be a good foreman
Because I tamed rough mares
In the open field and in the corral

But a black mule
I don't know where it came from
He came to end my fame
Because he didn't let himself be thrown

I followed her for a week
I followed her all month
I threw a mangana at him
Again and again, and again

I followed her through the hills
Through the plains too
I set a trap in the branches
Who mocked with his disdain

I had always boasted
Woe to presumption
Curse the black mule
That linked the verses of my song

I only have one consolation left
I have one consolation
That by not lassoing that mule
My rope was not spent either

I followed her for a week
I followed her all month
I threw a mangana at him
Again and again, and again

I followed her through the hills
Through the plains too
I set a trap in the branches
Who mocked with his disdain

I followed her for a week
I followed her all month
I threw a mangana at him
Again and again, and again

I followed her through the hills
Through the plains too
I set a trap in the branches
Who mocked with his disdain