Corrales viejos

Where are you Corrales Viejos
Cradle of great men,
Corner of my illusions
Memory of my childhood...
Your dances with organito
"La cancha de la Tapada"
And the noble crowd
Of the year ninety-three...
 
Your little colonial houses
Lined with malvones,
And your modest lanterns
Relics of my suburb.
And those simple men
Dressed "French style",
With their heads painted
Their oriental chamberguito...
 
The days of patriotic celebrations
Back on Arena Street,
Among those good people
They had a good time...
Until it got dark
The party didn't end,
And your street was decorated
The kerosene lantern...
 
Through Caseros, Armonía,
Patagones, Zavaleta,
The silhouettes paraded
Of a popular race...
That were giving progress
To that populous neighborhood,
Where the industrious man
Knew how to respect you.