Caballo Blanco
Vicente Fernández
White Horse
This is the ballad of the white horse
That on a happy Sunday will start
And with the aim of reaching the north
Having left Guadalajara
His noble rider took off the reins
Took off the saddle, and left in a hurry
He crossed like lightning through quiet lands
Between green hills and the blue of the sky
At a slower pace, he arrived at Espinosa
And was getting tired just by running
They say many were falling
That he had his whole muzzle bleeding
But they saw him pass through Sonora
And the Yankee Valley gave him its tenderness
They say he limped on his left leg
And despite everything, he continued his adventure
He arrived at Hermosillo, continued to Matadorca
And in Mexicali, he felt he was dying
He climbed step by step through La Rumorosa
Arriving in Tijuana with the light of day
One day his feat reached Rosarito
And he didn't want to rest until he saw the cliff
And this was the ballad of the white horse
That left one Sunday from Guadalajara
