Mocito
Antes tempos quando moço encilhava o melhor pingo
E saia nos domingos com as pilchas que eram uma gala
Conhecedor da escala um ventito que soprava
Coisas lindas bordoneava nas franjas brancas do pala
Meu flete tordilho negro do pelo tão bem cuidado
Do meu preparo chapeado da prata copiava o brilho
E pra florear o estilo só faceiro e daninho
Ia a trote puladinho que nem o canto do grilo
Era meu gosto de moço nas tardes de carreirada
No intervalo das largadas juntar a aba na fita
E com a alma tangueadita e as nazarenas cantando
Em passeio ir gavionando por entre as moças bonitas
De volta bem a noitinha hora em que a pampa adormece
E a natureza parece cochichar na voz dos rios
Eu trazia sem fastio saudando a estrela boieira
Uma coplita campeira bem floreada no assobio
Young Man
In the old days when I was young, I saddled the best horse
And on Sundays I would go out dressed in my finest clothes
Knowing the scale, a little wind blowing
Beautiful things I would embroider on the white fringes of the poncho
My black dapple horse with such well-kept fur
From my silver-plated gear, I copied the shine
And to embellish the style, just cheerful and mischievous
I would trot lightly like the song of the cricket
It was my young man's pleasure in the afternoons of horse racing
During the breaks between races, I would adjust the brim of my hat
And with my soul filled with joy and the Nazarenas singing
Strolling and flirting among the pretty girls
Returning in the early evening, when the pampas fall asleep
And nature seems to whisper in the voice of the rivers
I would bring without boredom, greeting the cowboy star
A well-flowered countryside verse whistling