El Carrero

(Trail)

(spoken)

It used to be different, the carts were the owners of the roads. They brought a warm winter with firewood from the mountains, a fresh summer with watermelons. Sunrises with early carts that passed by, waking up the town. Dripping their innocent music, the front oxen's bells and the playful whistle of the cart driver. Progress found him with a trade and an old cart. Don't think it's nice to walk in a new time loaded with old memories. Sometimes, arriving in town, getting involved in the lives of others. And always back to yoke the oxen and the dawn. Cart driver...

On the trail, on the trail,
let's go cart driver,
leave the cart
heading to town.
And we'll have women,
guitar and cane,
we'll cross the night
aiming for the finish line.
I've seen many shacks
and only one hurts me
but I swear, buddy,
that the roads help me.
On the trail, on the trail,
let's go cart driver,
breaking through the night
we'll arrive.
On the nail lit up
I carry the evening star,
urging on the oxen
with a luxurious bell.
Cart driver and old cart
at the mercy of the road,
how hard it is for the poor
help her with a whistle.