Paroles et traduction Luis Y Julian - El Cuatrero De La Joya

El Cuatrero De La Joya

Voy a cantar un corrido, que traigo aquí en mi memoria
El corrido de un cuatrero, de Guadalupe, La Joya
Que mato a 5 rurales, que Dios lo tenga en la gloria
A Guadalupe llegaron, unos agentes rurales,
En busca de aquel cuatrero, por aquellos andariales
Orden, traían de aprenderlo, por sus negros historiales
Como no lo conocían, a todos les preguntaban
Quien era Gregorio Cuellar, y que caballo montaba
Y donde tenía su rancho, y cuantas armas portaba
Les dice Arnulfo García, componiéndose el sombrero,
Ese hombre no vive aquí, es del rancho del Consuelo
Vive como un ermitaño, en la falda de aquel cerro
Yo le diré que no vayan, es un hombre de peligro,
Carga su 45, también un cuerno de chivo
Será mejor que desistan, si es que quieren seguir vivos
Formaron muy bien su plan, le llegaron por sorpresa
Pero la fiera escondida, les disparo con certeza,
Y a toditos los mato, dentro de sus camionetas
El corrido se acabo, todo a quedado en olvido
Nomás las cruces quedaron, de los rurales caídos
Y la fiera sigue suelta, por se oyen los rugidos

The Rustler of La Joya

I'm going to sing a corrido, that I have here in my memory
The corrido of a rustler, from Guadalupe, La Joya
Who killed 5 rural agents, may God have him in his glory
To Guadalupe they arrived, some rural agents,
In search of that rustler, through those paths
Orders, they carried out to apprehend him, for his dark history
As they didn't know him, they asked everyone
Who was Gregorio Cuellar, and what horse he rode
And where he had his ranch, and how many weapons he carried
Arnulfo Garcia tells them, readjusting his hat,
That man doesn't live here, he's from the Consuelo ranch
He lives like a hermit, at the foot of that hill
I'm going to tell you not to go, he's a dangerous man,
He carries his 45, also a goat horn
You'd better give up, if you want to stay alive
They formed their plan very well, they took him by surprise
But the hidden beast, shot them with precision,
And killed them all, within their pickup trucks
The corrido is over, everything has been forgotten
Only the crosses remain, of the fallen agents
And the beast is still loose, for their roars can be heard