Drums of the early evening wake

The mountain full of ore, and the canebrake.

Up at Cobre tall tambores call

One who rings gangarias with a nail,

One with feathers for sleeves,

One whose arms are birds,

One with a mouth full of great fires

And lights instead of words.

One with a tobacco leaf hat

Rings his drum like a bell,

And brings the saints of heaven, with claves,

Down from the starlit hill;

A black angel beats an ass’s jaw

And (tick tick) a white the claves

While the sodality of the blessed virgin

Follow after, carrying flowers.

Five angels beating bongos,

Seven saints ringing their bells,

Wear coats made out of paper money

And shoes made out of shells.

They clatter like a box of nickels,

Holding candle towers, on fire:

They whirl these as solemn as wise men,

Paper temples in the air.

Lights fly like birds behind the cane

And shot flies after, but in gourds,

When the comparsa goes off to the plains

With fires in her mouth, but now words:

For ten angels ring gangarias

When the comparsa goes away

With all the mountain people and pilgrims

Dancing down to Camaguey.

The pray for us, Mother of Jesus,

Caridad, Merced,

Queen of Cobre and of the three towers

That watch over Camaguey:

The ten angels are playing gangarias

And the comparsa goes away.