Tuesday, October 21, 2008

La Llorona

And so the story goes...
She walks at night, along the river. 
She wears a white dress, her black hair down.  
It seems like she's sick, but she's actually dead. 
She's dead inside, she killed herself. 
They say she killed her children, 'cause she fell in love. 
Now he's long gone, and she wants them home. 
She's a troubled soul, a punished spirit,
Alive or dead, there's no forgiving. 
The story says she killed them all,
One by one, four precious boys. 
They all were drowned,
They had no luck,
She didn't cry,
She loved him more.
Two were drowned in the river,
Two were thrown down the well.
She cries at night,
And so she dwells.
The elderly warn us, she'll never leave.
Mercy to men, she'll never give.
She comes out at night,
she cries and yells,
"Oh, my boys!" You'll hear her say.
If you hear her at night,
you better hide,
Children must go to bed,
or she'll take them by her side.
She's sad and lonely,
and does nothing but cry.
You'll see her walk soaked,
To approach her you mustn't try.
She walks at night, along the river. 
She wears a white dress, she flows as the wind blows.  
She misses her children, She won't let go.
Her face is perfect, you'll love her glow.


(La Llorona)

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