Por favor de no permitir a los ni os
Montar en o jugar los carritos
No, no montar en o jugar con los carritos

You brush your beautiful black hair out of your eyes,
You pour the quarters and the soap in the machines,
And watch your little babies nurse their bottles,
And chase each other round and round the room
Por favor. . .

I wonder to myself where did you come from?
How far did you travel, to find yourself in here?
And have you left someone so far behind you?
That you dream of in the dark and silent night?
Por favor . . .

I cannot tell my wife of my affection.
I am old enough to be your great grandfather.
I watch you through the spinning of the drier,
And make sure the babies cannot slip outside.
Por favor. . .

And now your brother drives up in his pickup;
You load the laundry and the babies in the back.
I watch you ride away, a little family--
As I dump the coin boxes in the bag.
Por favor. . .

My little se orita of the laundry,
Won't you come and visit me tonite in dreamland?
Won't you call me once your little tomatillo?
And rock me in your arms till I'm asleep