Once upon an old woman
With nothing to eat
But meats, fruits, sweets,
Cakes, eggs, bread and fish
He drank soup, chocolate,
Milk, wine, tea and coffee
And the poor could not find
What eat or drink.
With nothing to eat
But meats, fruits, sweets,
Cakes, eggs, bread and fish
He drank soup, chocolate,
Milk, wine, tea and coffee
And the poor could not find
What eat or drink.
And this old woman had
Not a hut in which to live
Outside of a big house
With its garden and its garden
Not a hut in which to live
Outside of a big house
With its garden and its garden
Nobody, nobody cared
But Andrew and John Gil
And eight servants and two pages
Livery and bowtie
But Andrew and John Gil
And eight servants and two pages
Livery and bowtie
He never had to sit on
But chairs and sofas
With benches and cushions
And spring to back
No other bed than a large
More golden altar,
With soft feather mattress,
Many silk and much Olano.
And this poor old lady
Each year, up close,
He had a year of old
And one less to live
And look in the mirror
The frightened always there
Another old goggles
Bonnet and wig.
And this poor old lady
I had to wear
But suits thousand cuts
And thousands and thousands of fabrics.
And except for his shoes,
Flip-flops, boots and shoes,
Descalcita the ground
Walked the unhappy
Appetite never had
Finished eating,
Neither enjoyed full health
When he was not well
He died of sickness wrinkles
It bent like a three,
And he never complained again
Neither hunger nor thirst.
And this poor old lady
When he died he left no more
That ounce, jewelry, land, houses,
Eight cats and a turpial
Sleep in peace, and God grant
That we get to enjoy
The poverty of the poor
And die the same disease
But chairs and sofas
With benches and cushions
And spring to back
No other bed than a large
More golden altar,
With soft feather mattress,
Many silk and much Olano.
And this poor old lady
Each year, up close,
He had a year of old
And one less to live
And look in the mirror
The frightened always there
Another old goggles
Bonnet and wig.
And this poor old lady
I had to wear
But suits thousand cuts
And thousands and thousands of fabrics.
And except for his shoes,
Flip-flops, boots and shoes,
Descalcita the ground
Walked the unhappy
Appetite never had
Finished eating,
Neither enjoyed full health
When he was not well
He died of sickness wrinkles
It bent like a three,
And he never complained again
Neither hunger nor thirst.
And this poor old lady
When he died he left no more
That ounce, jewelry, land, houses,
Eight cats and a turpial
Sleep in peace, and God grant
That we get to enjoy
The poverty of the poor
And die the same disease