Lupillo Rivera — El Barzon song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "El Barzon" by Lupillo Rivera.
Lyrics
Esas tierras del Rincón,
las sembrécon un buey pando,
se me reventóel barzón
y sigue la yunta andando.
Cuando lleguéa media tierra,
el arado iba enterrado,
se enterróhasta la telera,
el timón se desafó,
el barzón se iba trozando,
el yugo se iba pandeando,
el sembrador me iba hablando,
yo le dije al sembrador:
que no me hable, cuando arando.
Se me reventóel barzón
y sigue la yunta andando.
Cuando salía la otra orilla
Cuando acabéde pizcar,
vino el rico y lo partió,
todo mi maíz se llevó,
ni pa’comer me dejó,
me presenta aqui la cuenta:
Aqui debes veinte pesos
de la renta de unos bueyes,
cinco pesos de magueyes,
tres pesos de unas coyotas,
cinco pesos de unas tunas,
tres pesos de no séqué,
pero todo estáen la cuenta,
a mas de veinte reales
que sacaste de la tienda.
Con todo el maíz que te toca
no le pagas a la hacienda.
Ahora vete a trabajar
pa’que sigas abonando.
'Nomas me quede pensando
haciendo un cigarro de hoja:
¡Que patrón tan sinvergüenza,
todo mi maíz se llevó
para su maldita troca!
Se me reventóel barzón
y sigue la yunta andando
Lyrics translation
Those corner lands,
they look like a pando Ox.,
my Barzon's busted.
and the junta is still walking.
When Half Earth arrived,
the plow was buried.,
he buried himself to the ground.,
the helm was challenged,
the barzón was chopping,
the yoke was buckling,
The Sower was talking to me,
I told The Sower:
don't talk to me when I plow.
My Barzon's busted.
and the junta is still walking.
When the other shore came out
When I finish pinching,
the rich man came and broke it,
all my corn took away,
not even PA'comar left me,
present me here the account:
Here you owe twenty pesos
from the rent of some oxen,
five pesos of magueyes,
three pesos of coyotes,
five pesos of tunas,
three pesos of I don't know,
but it's all in the account,
over twenty reals
that you took out of the store.
With all the corn you get
you don't pay the IRS.
Now go to work
keep paying.
'Nomas I keep thinking
making a leaf cigar:
What a scoundrel pattern,
all my corn took away
for your damn trade!
My Barzon's busted.
and the yunta continues to walk