When my father died
Among other things he left
There in Jalisco, a little ranch
He left a silver saddle
His nickel-plated pistol
And a very beautiful horse

He wouldn't let himself be saddled
And much less ridden
By any intruder
But I would pet him
As my father used to talk to him
And he ended up being my friend

His name was El Cascabel
There was no horse like him
So cunning and proud
But he missed my father
I noticed when I rode him
Sadness in his neighing

One day I went galloping
Someone wanted to buy him
They offered me whatever I wanted
With his ears standing up
He threw a couple of kicks
As if the horse understood

But one day he escaped
When my father completed
Exactly one year of his death
And that beautiful horse
Went to die in a well
Close to the holy field

That horse died
Because he never forgot
The one who was his beloved master
They say that there in Monte Grande
Of my father's horse
You can hear his neighing

CONSULTER LES PAROLES ORIGINALES