Los Campanilleros
Rosa Lopez
The Bell Ringers
In the fields of my Andalusia
the bell ringers in the early morning
wake me up with their little bells
and with their guitars they make me cry
they make me cry
wake me up with their little bells
and with their guitars they make me cry
The gypsies who go through the mountains
canting and dancing at dawn
touching drums, tambourines,
singing verses to the child of God
to the child of God
touching drums, tambourines,
singing verses to the child of God
On Christmas Eve night
under the stars of the early morning
the shepherds with their little bells
worship the child who has already been born
who has already been born
the shepherds with their little bells
worship the child who has already been born
In the fields of my Andalusia
the bell ringers in the early morning
wake me up with their little bells
worship the child who has already been born
who has already been born
wake me up with their little bells
worship the child who has already been born
who has already been born
who has already been born
