I was a little boy when my old man died
It was so much misery that my old lady and I
we ate weeping the mugriente and hard bread
what hours of misery my hand begged.
My poor little old lady washing other people's clothes
he broke his spine at the foot of the tinajon
for miserable coins with which to calm the pains
the cruel bitterness of our situation.
I was growing up in the bartola and in my youthful years
I grabbed the path that seemed best to me,
I coded with milongueras I layered with copetines
and the best of my friends when he could he sold me.
Cocky I became handsome and they locked me behind bars
and a prisoner nor a friend has come to visit me
only the haggard and adored face of my old
He crushed himself against the bars so he could kiss me.
That's why colleagues with so many disappointments
nobody convinces me with friendship phrases
and today I live with my mother I want to sweeten her years
and I want to make your noble old age happy.
I feel so happy together, with my mother
that is the best affection that the heart has
That if it is a love that nobody takes it from me
Honey, do not cheat or know about betrayal
To you friend who is so young
I'll give you a piece of gold advice, let's go and milongas
that you will never regret taking care of your old lady
that the mother is a treasure a treasure that by losing it
another like you will not find
And do not do as those who spend themselves on pleasures
and they forget the mother or care about their pain
that they kill it to disgust and just when it dies,
they repent and they cry, they do not understand their value ...
Its value...!
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Only among all we can make this a better place :)