In forty-six many men marched
From Missouri escaping the Eastern noise
And through the right of rifles raised
Our flag flew in that Turquoise
On the Estacado—
My mind was made
A widow by the name of Maria
Allured me to her shade
She lived in the arroyo
With the one man God never took
Her son José called me padre
With the holiest of looks
My skin burned red like embers
‘Pon soil without rain
But from Navajo Country, well past September
The storm—cobalt—it came
Overjoyed, I screamed to the sky
And ran to plant more corn
From Maria’s shore of the Pecos
I hear a horrid scream forlorn
When I get back ‘midst thunderclaps
I find half my house is gone
And as I let that flood subside
I see the body of my son.
My wife? She disappeared,
like those hillside fireballs,
And the territory’s farmers demand
With my life I pay all
So there’s no use in staying here
I’ll take the next train to California
But know: what you build God’ll take away
So they call her La Llarona