Select language to translate this lyric
Here I sit and sing
With true love
Verses that were composed
To Don Valente Quintero
I told him my consent
Valente, what are you going to do? do
The oldest is drunk
And something can happen
Valente arrived at that dance
And he ordered the bull to be played
If the oldest pays with money
I will pay them with gold
The musicians answered
We don't know how to play it
Valente is already drunk
And after wanting to fight
Valente was drunk
And he was scandalizing
With this forty-five
I do not respect any degree
The oldest answered him
For the love of God
Yours is forty and five
Mine burns thirty-two
The oldest went outside
Quite very irritated
Valente, you are not a man
You are an occasion
They held hands
They moved away from the ball
And a few moments later
Gunshots are heard
Valente is dying
Reporting to the creator
Raise your arms to the sky
And shoot the biggest bullet
Fly, fly little dove
And if you don't fly, stop
These are the mornings
Of the Mayor and of Valente