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The Bell Ringers

Rosa Lopez

Los Campanilleros

En los campos de mi Andalucía
los campanilleros en la madrugá
me despiertan con sus campanillas
y con sus guitarras me hacen llorar
me hacen llorar
me despiertan con sus campanillas
y con sus guitarras me hacen llorar

Los gitanos que van por el monte
cantando y bailando al amanecer
van tocando tambores, panderos,
cantándole coplas al niño de Dios
al niño de Dios
van tocando tambores, panderos,
cantándole coplas al niño de Dios

En la noche de la nochebuena
bajo las estrellas de la madrugá
los pastores con sus campanillas
adoran al niño que ha nacido ya
que ha nacido ya
los pastores con sus campanillas
adoran al niño que ha nacido ya

En los campos de mi Andalucía
los campanilleros en la madrugá
me despiertan con sus campanillas
adoran al niño que ha nacido ya
que ha nacido ya
me despiertan con sus campanillas
adoran al niño que ha nacido ya

que ha nacido ya
que ha nacido ya

The Bell Ringers

In the fields of my Andalusia
the bell ringers in the early morning
wake me up with their little bells
and with their guitars they make me cry
they make me cry
wake me up with their little bells
and with their guitars they make me cry

The gypsies who go through the mountains
canting and dancing at dawn
touching drums, tambourines,
singing verses to the child of God
to the child of God
touching drums, tambourines,
singing verses to the child of God

On Christmas Eve night
under the stars of the early morning
the shepherds with their little bells
worship the child who has already been born
who has already been born
the shepherds with their little bells
worship the child who has already been born

In the fields of my Andalusia
the bell ringers in the early morning
wake me up with their little bells
worship the child who has already been born
who has already been born
wake me up with their little bells
worship the child who has already been born

who has already been born
who has already been born

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