SONGS OF SPAINThis collection of songs is part of a greater project that involves the gathering and translating of folklore tales and poems that depict the history of Spain through it's tradition of oral-storytelling. Tales that cover the life of the Spanish people in days long, long ago; tales of bloody battles between the opposing parties that would rule this land: the Spanish gentry, the Moors, the Berbers, the Christian and Islamic invaders; tales of heroic knights and the sweethearts and wives left behind when they set off to war; tales of marauding pirates, of saintly miracles, criminals and beggars and beautiful places...
Except where noted, the lyrics are not my own, but adjusted variations of existing translations, collected by professional scholars and researchers of Spanish folklore. Where necessary, I've used poetic license to change words and lines around, and add my own to create flowing verses suitable for singing. However... all the melodies are my own compositions, and I don't hide the deeply rooted influence of the folk-music of the British Isles. The folklore of Spain transformed into English folk songs! *For the song lyrics, scroll to bottom of page. |
|
|
1) GUADELETE a poem
by Leonard Williams/1903/Ballads and Songs of Spain.
The battle of Xeres, or the Guadalete (A.D.714), took place on the banks of the river whose name it commonly bears, between the Christian parties of King Roderick, and the advance guards of the Moorish infidels. All at once, at a moment when the Moors seemed to be giving way before the frantic onset of their assailants, a whole wing of the Christian army, headed by Oppas, Bishop of Seville, went over to the enemy. With this defection the battle was virtually at an end. The Moslems were, from that moment, lords of Spain. And as the night closed over such a scene of slaughter as that fair land has seldom witnessed, the Christian army, was no more. |
|
2) A CALL TO ARMS a poem by Leonard Williams/1903/Ballads and Songs of Spain.
The accompanying ballad represents a summons to arms supposed to have been received by the alcayde or commandant of some fortress in possession of the Christians—one of many grim strongholds poised on the lofty crags that border the fertile Vegas, or plains, of Granada or Malaga. The plateau they enclose was the seat of the bitterest of the struggles between the rival creeds and empires of Mohammedanism and Christianity. |
|
3) ANDALUSIAN SPRING a poem by Leonard Williams/1903/Ballads and Songs of Spain, inspired by the ballad "GUITAR SONG" by Teresa Sanchez.
|
|
4) THE SONG OF THE PIRATE a poem by Leonard Williams/1903/Ballads and Songs of Spain
SUGGESTED BY THE " CANCION DEL PIRATA" OF ESPRONCEDA |
|
5) THE HUSBAND'S RETURN
This is an adaptation of a Judeo-Spanish version of the ballad of The Husband's Return. It can be traced back to medieval Spanish antecedents and ultimately to a lost Old French archetype. The theme of this song is universal and to be found in many guises - even among English folksongs. My source-verse was only a basic sketch of the story, so I used elements from similar songs to fill it out. |
|
6) THE BEGGARMAN a poem by Leonard Williams/1903/Ballads and Songs of Spain
from the Spanish of ESPRONCEDA |
|
7) THE PRISONER
An early and shorter version of this ballad, is from an early collection of Spanish poetry, printed in Valencia, in 1511. The model for this version was collected in a mountain village, in northwestern Spain, in 1963. Four hundred and fifty years separate the two versions. Over the centuries, a sequence of anonymous traditional singers--creative oral poets--have continuously experimented with this ballad.... and now it's my turn. |
|
8) THE PORT OF MAZARRÓN
One in which the lyrics are completely my own, and recounting the tale of "The Miracle of La Purisima". The "Miracle of La Purisima" took place in Mazarrón (Costa Calida, Spain) on 17th November 1585. On this day Berber pirates sailed into the coast to attack Mazarrón. The expedition was led by the famous pirate Morato Arraez, legendary across the region for his incursions and attacks. On board his ship was a man called Mami, who had once worked in Mazarrón but now worked as servant to the pirate. Legend says that the first step of the miracle of the Virgin of the Purisima was his intervention, his act of persuading the Captain to hold back from a full attack and send out a scouting party, because of the good treatment he had received in Mazarron. Stage 2 occurred when the scouting party approached the village, creeping up as men sat outside playing cards. Miraculously as they played, the evening bells rang out, announcing the sunset and fall of night, but for a reason no-one has ever managed to explain, that night the wrong bell rope was pulled and the alarm signal rang, alerting the town to the approach of pirates. The cardplayers leapt to their feet, one man shouting out in frustration that he had 14 horses, a term that apparently was significant to the card players, but which lead the muslim invaders to assume that a mounted force had anticipated their attack and that 14 horsemen awaited them , intent on slaughter, so rushed back to the beach. At this point, a woman appeared on the beach, radiating light, arms raised to the heavens, a spectacle which terrorized the scouts to such an extent that they fled from the beach, throwing their arms into the sea and the boat sailed away from the waters of Mazarron, saving the village from certain pillage and probable destruction. The villagers went to the hermitage of the Concepcion to give thanks for their delivery and realized to their amazement that the lamp shining out next to the statue of the Virgin shone without oil, that the head of the Virgin was turned towards the sea, and her robe was wet with seawater and peppered with sand. |
LYRICS
1) GUADELETE
Guadelete, sullen river,
Witness of that angry day,
When the sword of a deceiver
Bled thy country's life away,
Why so darkly, why so slowly.
Seawards, river, windest thou ?
Hath that massacre unholy
Stained the silver on thy brow ?
Is it still that Memory shames thee
Into silence ? Truly saith
Arab chronicler that names thee
" Guadalete—Stream of Death."
---------------
2) A CALL TO ARMS
Yon fellow says the bold Marques,* (;Rodrigo Ponce de Leon, Marquis of Cadiz.)
With trusty comrades four,
This day hath ta'en a thousand men
And sendeth me for more.
By God's dear grace he goes to face
The infidels that lie
Upon the Vega's smiling space,
The hosts of Mawmetry.
Oh well I know the gallant four
That with his pennon be ;
I wager good Montemayor
Hath borne him company ;
And Santiago's lord hath heard
The fame of fight afar,
And Cabra's Count, and to him spurred,
And valiant Aguilar
And these have sent their knightly word
That I this day shall go,
And men-at-arms and help afford,
And by them fight also.
This day the summer breeze afar
Shall blow the battle din
From mountain heights to Malaga,
From Ronda to Moclin.
This day shall spread the battle roar,
This day shall thrill the fight
From Estepona of the shore
To steep Alhama's height.
Your barbs shall sniff the charge this day.
This day your souls shall hear
The ring of lance and targe's play,
Of sword and cimeter.
This day our bands shall muster where
Twin standards reel and toss
Upon an angered atmosphere,
The Crescent and the Cross.
Go, saddle each his trusty steed.
Go, buckle each his sword.
And lace his corselet with all speed
Each soldier of the Lord.
Look well each brand be keen and bright,
Look to your horses' gear,
And trim your arrows for the fight,
And sharpen each his spear.
Each gird him on his whetted brand,
And trust himself this day
To God's and to his own right hand
To guard the Faith alway.
Thou, Lord of Ages, shield our host
And unto us draw near,
So greater might than Moor may boast
Shall grace each good arm here.
So every stroke shall whistle sure
To lay a heathen low.
To cleave the carcase of a Moor
From helm to saddle-bow.
As soon a mountain torrent's course
For sandy grain shall stay.
So up and arm—to horse ! to horse !
And smite the Moor this day.
Or if ye fall, a warrior's death
What nobler end—what higher ?
In glory, fighting for the Faith,
What more do ye desire
----------------
3) ANDALUSIAN SPRING
They tell me tales of Aragon,
Of proud Navarra, far Leon,
And Castile's broad dominion.
Of the North to the mind
Of a chilly northern hind
Hey ! hey ! but I pine away
For the soft south wind that plays
In the sun of a southern day.
Laughing Andalusia—she
Dearer is than all to me.
They tell me tales of Cordova,
They say that Vasco cities are
Broad and beautiful—but far
Fairer still is Seville—she
Pearl of cities is to me.
_
O Maiden come with me—I'll sing
To the leaves light whispering,
Under the shade of a saffron-tree,
Or an orange-orchard's canopy-
In an Andalusian Spring.
----------------
4) THE SONG OF THE PIRATE
My schooner is my darling dear, Her sails are set, the wind is free.
My schooner is my darling dear,
The shotted cannon's on the deck,
The sails are set, the wind is free.
And bravely whistles, shrill and clear,
Lashing us onward cheerily
And thus sing I, the buccaneer
My schooner is my darling dear, Her sails are set, the wind is free.
My schooner is my darling dear,
Never a nation but must reck
That where the spumy seas are spread,
Those wide and watery wastes I tread
From end to end, and brave with me
My battle hazard; never yet
A mariner but in me has met
His overlord, and bowed his neck
Unto the skipper-buccaneer.
My schooner is my darling dear,
The doleful demons of the blast
Scraping the shrouds my fiddlers are
I love them well, the hurricane
Thumping the bosom of the main
Bangs me his drum ; the groaning mast,
The piping voices of the gale,
The echoes that among them be,
The thunder hoarse, the pattering hail,
Each stormy noise from near and far
Maketh my ocean orchestra
My schooner is my darling dear, Her sails are set, the wind is free.
My schooner is my darling dear
Ye blind, besotted kings of earth,
Who buffet for an inch of filth.
What are your base ambitions worth ?
What say ye to the sounding deep ?
I am its emperor ; envy me.
That over its dominion keep
Inviolable rule,—the tilth
Of vasty ocean's azure field
O'er royal acres richly sown
Is mine and only mine,—its yield
My harvesters the breezes bear
Unto their pirate-lord alone,
My schooner is my darling dear,
Through life and death my nimble bark
Full-merrily I fight and steer,
Without a thought, without a fear.
The pirate has no perils,—hark !
The tempest bellows to the deep
And snaps the spar and smites the shroud
That screeches, smit,—now is my sleep
Her sails are set, the storm is loud.
My schooner is my darling dear,
My schooner is my darling dear, Her sails are set, the wind is free.
My schooner is my darling dear,
---------------
5) THE HUSBAND'S RETURN
Tree tree a noble tree
With roots of gold, and silver leaves
A knight passed by and paused to see
A lady searching there
My lady oh my lady meek
Pray tell me what it is you seek
If I can be of help to thee
I'm yours my lady fair
Tis my beloved that I seek
My beloved Amadí
If you know where I could find he
I will reward you well
I know this man you wish to see
This knight that you call Amadí
And if I bring him home to thee
What would you give, pray tell
I will give my daughters three
The daughters of my Amadí
If you would bring him home to me
I'll give them all to you
One is for your table sir
The second she will be to serve
The third, the youngest and most fair
I give to sleep with you
From his horse the goodly knight
Stepped down and joined the lady's side
And when she looked into his eyes
She saw her Amadí
Oh you are my one true love
My Amadí, my knight my dove
Blessed be the lord above
Who brought you home to me
-------------
6) THE BEGGARMAN
Mine is the world—a kingdom free,
I reap what other men have sowed,
I learn the ready charity,
On them that ask an alms bestowed.
I reck not, be my destiny
Mine is the world— of liberty.
In palace fine I dream or dine,
Or cabin lowly—both are mine,
From shelter safe I hear
The tempest stroke that lops the oak
Upon the mountain drear.
The fields, the valleys flooded are,
It matters not—I wage no war
With sun or storm, I take no harm
I laugh, and clamber higher
To shepherd's welcome kind and warm
By warm and welcome fire;
Mine is the world— of liberty.
Prince and peasant, lord and hind,
Welcome me in word and kind,
And for their weal I pray
Yet thank them not, it is but due
That those who have my prayers should so
Their benefactor pay.
For poverty, her charge so dear.
Doth Heaven protect with love sincere.
Swift to avenge, and sure.
Yea, times there are to try the heart
Of wealth, and sift its greed apart
That God Himself turns poor.
Mine is the world—of liberty.
Each perfumed beauty is my prey
I follow where she takes her way,
And in her footsteps press
I make her halt, I make her hear
My wants, my woes, I make her fear
My claim importunate, and drear
Malodorous distress.
In filthy rags, face dark and sour,
I tread upon the heels of power
Where men make merry and rejoice
With song, and dance, and cheerful noise,
My squalid self with dismal voice
Breaks in upon their hour.
Delight and Anguish, Pleasure Pain,
How near they dwell, how close together;
How short a space steps in between
The fine and wintry weather.
No hope, no fear, no work, no play,
No joy for me, no sorrow,
No thought of Life, or Death, or Birth,
No yestertide, no morrow.
No biting care by night or day
I reck not, be my destiny
The Hell or Heaven of Earth.
From memories, from cares apart,
Live on, live on, untroubled heart
In whole security forget
More glittering aims—let others sweat
For gold, and glory's fabled sway
My only thought is for to-day.
My only aim the purer power
To beg my bread from hour to hour.
Oh kings and laws may come and go
My strength is in my poverty.
My blest estate is better so
Than politics or princes be.
My home is where my heart would be.
Beneath the wide air's liberty.
And when this ragged frame shall fall,
I'll draw my latest breath,
And take my rest on earth's broad breast-
Unfettered, e'en in Death.
Mine is the world—the open air
The pence that wrung by others be,
The foods that other hands prepare--
For love of God and charity
Of God and charity I ask
And earn them—everywhere
---------------
7) THE PRISONER
T'was the month of May
When delightful warmth abides
When the oxen grow fat
and the roads and paths
Can be traveled far and wide
When ladies fair are held
In the arms of their lover's bold
Though my own I'll not see
For I, woe is me
Am locked in this prison cold
I saw not the sun go down
Nor the early light of morn
No sound I heard
but for three little birds
That sang for me at dawn
One was the skylark sweet
And the swallow so gay its call
But both did pale
To the Nightingale
That sang the best of all
Then one day as it sang for me
A hunter passed, dear God!
With loaded gun,
Cruel deed was done
And he killed it with one shot
If he killed it for its flesh
T'was of little worth behold
If he killed it for
Its feathers more
I'd have paid for them in gold
If he killed it though for vengeance
For its beauty and its song
May God for his sin
Never pardon him
For however his life is long
-------------
8) THE PORT OF MAZARRON
Off the port of Mazarron, November 1585
There in the still dark sea a Berber Pirate ship lay silent
To the townsfolk unbeknown, They filled their guns and sharpened knives
Led by Morato Arraez, The feared sea-faring tyrant
While they waited tense and strung, Eager for their night of pillage
Soft into his captain's ear, The servant Mami whispered
Hold back from full attack my sir, Send scouters first into the village
If no alarm sounds then we know, We will not be resisted
And as the sun went down, this day did bring about the Miracle... of la Purisima
In the streets of Mazarron, townsmen played there cards a-turning
Unaware of closing threat and thieves that did surround them
Then as the evening bells they tolled, to herald in the night returning
The wrong bellrope perchance was pulled, instead alarm did sound then
And all around the town, the bells rang out ...”awake, awake,,, here come – the Muslim Pirates
The players sprang up to their feet, cards were strewn and tables shuddered
One with winning hand cried out...”But I have 14 horses”
The scouters watched in shock and fear, believing they had been discovered
And thought there headed to the town, a band of 14 horsemen
…On the beach of Mazarron, the scouters fled, their plans forsaken
When there beside the shore appeared, a vision of Our Lady
Brightly as a star she shone, sending pirate's hearts a shaking
Threw themselves into the sea, screaming Lord, oh save me...
Silent in this dark November night, the pirate-ship turned round... and sailed away
All the folk of Mazarron, marched to praise their Virgin Saviour
At the hermitage they fell in wonder and commotion
The lamp beside her statue shone, no oil did burn but light it gave
Her robe was wet and cloaked in sand, her head it faced the ocean...
___________________________________
1) GUADELETE
Guadelete, sullen river,
Witness of that angry day,
When the sword of a deceiver
Bled thy country's life away,
Why so darkly, why so slowly.
Seawards, river, windest thou ?
Hath that massacre unholy
Stained the silver on thy brow ?
Is it still that Memory shames thee
Into silence ? Truly saith
Arab chronicler that names thee
" Guadalete—Stream of Death."
---------------
2) A CALL TO ARMS
Yon fellow says the bold Marques,* (;Rodrigo Ponce de Leon, Marquis of Cadiz.)
With trusty comrades four,
This day hath ta'en a thousand men
And sendeth me for more.
By God's dear grace he goes to face
The infidels that lie
Upon the Vega's smiling space,
The hosts of Mawmetry.
Oh well I know the gallant four
That with his pennon be ;
I wager good Montemayor
Hath borne him company ;
And Santiago's lord hath heard
The fame of fight afar,
And Cabra's Count, and to him spurred,
And valiant Aguilar
And these have sent their knightly word
That I this day shall go,
And men-at-arms and help afford,
And by them fight also.
This day the summer breeze afar
Shall blow the battle din
From mountain heights to Malaga,
From Ronda to Moclin.
This day shall spread the battle roar,
This day shall thrill the fight
From Estepona of the shore
To steep Alhama's height.
Your barbs shall sniff the charge this day.
This day your souls shall hear
The ring of lance and targe's play,
Of sword and cimeter.
This day our bands shall muster where
Twin standards reel and toss
Upon an angered atmosphere,
The Crescent and the Cross.
Go, saddle each his trusty steed.
Go, buckle each his sword.
And lace his corselet with all speed
Each soldier of the Lord.
Look well each brand be keen and bright,
Look to your horses' gear,
And trim your arrows for the fight,
And sharpen each his spear.
Each gird him on his whetted brand,
And trust himself this day
To God's and to his own right hand
To guard the Faith alway.
Thou, Lord of Ages, shield our host
And unto us draw near,
So greater might than Moor may boast
Shall grace each good arm here.
So every stroke shall whistle sure
To lay a heathen low.
To cleave the carcase of a Moor
From helm to saddle-bow.
As soon a mountain torrent's course
For sandy grain shall stay.
So up and arm—to horse ! to horse !
And smite the Moor this day.
Or if ye fall, a warrior's death
What nobler end—what higher ?
In glory, fighting for the Faith,
What more do ye desire
----------------
3) ANDALUSIAN SPRING
They tell me tales of Aragon,
Of proud Navarra, far Leon,
And Castile's broad dominion.
Of the North to the mind
Of a chilly northern hind
Hey ! hey ! but I pine away
For the soft south wind that plays
In the sun of a southern day.
Laughing Andalusia—she
Dearer is than all to me.
They tell me tales of Cordova,
They say that Vasco cities are
Broad and beautiful—but far
Fairer still is Seville—she
Pearl of cities is to me.
_
O Maiden come with me—I'll sing
To the leaves light whispering,
Under the shade of a saffron-tree,
Or an orange-orchard's canopy-
In an Andalusian Spring.
----------------
4) THE SONG OF THE PIRATE
My schooner is my darling dear, Her sails are set, the wind is free.
My schooner is my darling dear,
The shotted cannon's on the deck,
The sails are set, the wind is free.
And bravely whistles, shrill and clear,
Lashing us onward cheerily
And thus sing I, the buccaneer
My schooner is my darling dear, Her sails are set, the wind is free.
My schooner is my darling dear,
Never a nation but must reck
That where the spumy seas are spread,
Those wide and watery wastes I tread
From end to end, and brave with me
My battle hazard; never yet
A mariner but in me has met
His overlord, and bowed his neck
Unto the skipper-buccaneer.
My schooner is my darling dear,
The doleful demons of the blast
Scraping the shrouds my fiddlers are
I love them well, the hurricane
Thumping the bosom of the main
Bangs me his drum ; the groaning mast,
The piping voices of the gale,
The echoes that among them be,
The thunder hoarse, the pattering hail,
Each stormy noise from near and far
Maketh my ocean orchestra
My schooner is my darling dear, Her sails are set, the wind is free.
My schooner is my darling dear
Ye blind, besotted kings of earth,
Who buffet for an inch of filth.
What are your base ambitions worth ?
What say ye to the sounding deep ?
I am its emperor ; envy me.
That over its dominion keep
Inviolable rule,—the tilth
Of vasty ocean's azure field
O'er royal acres richly sown
Is mine and only mine,—its yield
My harvesters the breezes bear
Unto their pirate-lord alone,
My schooner is my darling dear,
Through life and death my nimble bark
Full-merrily I fight and steer,
Without a thought, without a fear.
The pirate has no perils,—hark !
The tempest bellows to the deep
And snaps the spar and smites the shroud
That screeches, smit,—now is my sleep
Her sails are set, the storm is loud.
My schooner is my darling dear,
My schooner is my darling dear, Her sails are set, the wind is free.
My schooner is my darling dear,
---------------
5) THE HUSBAND'S RETURN
Tree tree a noble tree
With roots of gold, and silver leaves
A knight passed by and paused to see
A lady searching there
My lady oh my lady meek
Pray tell me what it is you seek
If I can be of help to thee
I'm yours my lady fair
Tis my beloved that I seek
My beloved Amadí
If you know where I could find he
I will reward you well
I know this man you wish to see
This knight that you call Amadí
And if I bring him home to thee
What would you give, pray tell
I will give my daughters three
The daughters of my Amadí
If you would bring him home to me
I'll give them all to you
One is for your table sir
The second she will be to serve
The third, the youngest and most fair
I give to sleep with you
From his horse the goodly knight
Stepped down and joined the lady's side
And when she looked into his eyes
She saw her Amadí
Oh you are my one true love
My Amadí, my knight my dove
Blessed be the lord above
Who brought you home to me
-------------
6) THE BEGGARMAN
Mine is the world—a kingdom free,
I reap what other men have sowed,
I learn the ready charity,
On them that ask an alms bestowed.
I reck not, be my destiny
Mine is the world— of liberty.
In palace fine I dream or dine,
Or cabin lowly—both are mine,
From shelter safe I hear
The tempest stroke that lops the oak
Upon the mountain drear.
The fields, the valleys flooded are,
It matters not—I wage no war
With sun or storm, I take no harm
I laugh, and clamber higher
To shepherd's welcome kind and warm
By warm and welcome fire;
Mine is the world— of liberty.
Prince and peasant, lord and hind,
Welcome me in word and kind,
And for their weal I pray
Yet thank them not, it is but due
That those who have my prayers should so
Their benefactor pay.
For poverty, her charge so dear.
Doth Heaven protect with love sincere.
Swift to avenge, and sure.
Yea, times there are to try the heart
Of wealth, and sift its greed apart
That God Himself turns poor.
Mine is the world—of liberty.
Each perfumed beauty is my prey
I follow where she takes her way,
And in her footsteps press
I make her halt, I make her hear
My wants, my woes, I make her fear
My claim importunate, and drear
Malodorous distress.
In filthy rags, face dark and sour,
I tread upon the heels of power
Where men make merry and rejoice
With song, and dance, and cheerful noise,
My squalid self with dismal voice
Breaks in upon their hour.
Delight and Anguish, Pleasure Pain,
How near they dwell, how close together;
How short a space steps in between
The fine and wintry weather.
No hope, no fear, no work, no play,
No joy for me, no sorrow,
No thought of Life, or Death, or Birth,
No yestertide, no morrow.
No biting care by night or day
I reck not, be my destiny
The Hell or Heaven of Earth.
From memories, from cares apart,
Live on, live on, untroubled heart
In whole security forget
More glittering aims—let others sweat
For gold, and glory's fabled sway
My only thought is for to-day.
My only aim the purer power
To beg my bread from hour to hour.
Oh kings and laws may come and go
My strength is in my poverty.
My blest estate is better so
Than politics or princes be.
My home is where my heart would be.
Beneath the wide air's liberty.
And when this ragged frame shall fall,
I'll draw my latest breath,
And take my rest on earth's broad breast-
Unfettered, e'en in Death.
Mine is the world—the open air
The pence that wrung by others be,
The foods that other hands prepare--
For love of God and charity
Of God and charity I ask
And earn them—everywhere
---------------
7) THE PRISONER
T'was the month of May
When delightful warmth abides
When the oxen grow fat
and the roads and paths
Can be traveled far and wide
When ladies fair are held
In the arms of their lover's bold
Though my own I'll not see
For I, woe is me
Am locked in this prison cold
I saw not the sun go down
Nor the early light of morn
No sound I heard
but for three little birds
That sang for me at dawn
One was the skylark sweet
And the swallow so gay its call
But both did pale
To the Nightingale
That sang the best of all
Then one day as it sang for me
A hunter passed, dear God!
With loaded gun,
Cruel deed was done
And he killed it with one shot
If he killed it for its flesh
T'was of little worth behold
If he killed it for
Its feathers more
I'd have paid for them in gold
If he killed it though for vengeance
For its beauty and its song
May God for his sin
Never pardon him
For however his life is long
-------------
8) THE PORT OF MAZARRON
Off the port of Mazarron, November 1585
There in the still dark sea a Berber Pirate ship lay silent
To the townsfolk unbeknown, They filled their guns and sharpened knives
Led by Morato Arraez, The feared sea-faring tyrant
While they waited tense and strung, Eager for their night of pillage
Soft into his captain's ear, The servant Mami whispered
Hold back from full attack my sir, Send scouters first into the village
If no alarm sounds then we know, We will not be resisted
And as the sun went down, this day did bring about the Miracle... of la Purisima
In the streets of Mazarron, townsmen played there cards a-turning
Unaware of closing threat and thieves that did surround them
Then as the evening bells they tolled, to herald in the night returning
The wrong bellrope perchance was pulled, instead alarm did sound then
And all around the town, the bells rang out ...”awake, awake,,, here come – the Muslim Pirates
The players sprang up to their feet, cards were strewn and tables shuddered
One with winning hand cried out...”But I have 14 horses”
The scouters watched in shock and fear, believing they had been discovered
And thought there headed to the town, a band of 14 horsemen
…On the beach of Mazarron, the scouters fled, their plans forsaken
When there beside the shore appeared, a vision of Our Lady
Brightly as a star she shone, sending pirate's hearts a shaking
Threw themselves into the sea, screaming Lord, oh save me...
Silent in this dark November night, the pirate-ship turned round... and sailed away
All the folk of Mazarron, marched to praise their Virgin Saviour
At the hermitage they fell in wonder and commotion
The lamp beside her statue shone, no oil did burn but light it gave
Her robe was wet and cloaked in sand, her head it faced the ocean...
___________________________________