Who is martin fierro

You can hardly step through your own door-posts, And the Mayor gets to know-- Like a hawk he's down on you, sound or sick, Though your wife has her baby a month too quick, Ah there's never a thong but gives at last. Nor a time but has to go! And give yourself up for lost, my boys, If the Mayor nooses you; They'll drag you off with a hail of blows, Though why neither God nor the Mayor knows, And they finish you quick if you stand and draw, As the gaucho used to do.

And blue and black they drub your back, And over the head they rap you, And then all sore and smothered in gore, I They truss you up and they give you more, And elbow to elbow tethered tight, the filthy stocks they clap you.

Not even the lookers-on were spared In the drive they made that day, They made no bones about right or wrong, But all they laid hands on they hustled along, Save one that to please the barkeep's wife, The sergeant let get away. They formed us up at the door and said We must serve the Government; And they mixed us up with a wretched lot That at some other place they'd caught; Not the devil himself, it seems to me, Could anything worse invent.

I knew the Judge had a down on me, For I'm no politician; On voting day I had stayed away, And somebody since had heard him say That those that didn't vote for him Were helping the opposition.

And so no doubt I was ruined there At a game where I held no hand, For whether the lists be bad or good, At the polls there's always trouble brewed, And I stay away, for I've got no use For things I don't understand. And before we went off, the Judge he up And made us a long harangue; He said they'd treat us like gallant men, And he promised us over and over again, That we'd only serve six months and then, He'd send the relieving gang.

A neighbor told me afterwards That I hadn't been gone very long, When they sold the cattle to pay the rent, And that after the cattle the land soon went, And one day the Justice seized the rest And auctioned it off for a song. And my poor boys, when the place broke up, Were scattered with the rest; They had to go when the land was sold; They got jobs as 'peones' I was told, But how could they work?

When I think of their lot it seems to me My heart is near to break. They told me the older of the two Said he'd stick to the young one, and see him through; God send some Christian to take them in, If only for pity's sake. And my wife--alas! They said with some hawk she flew away, That had hung round there for many a day; No doubt she did it to get the bread That I wasn't there to give her. Buenos Aires and the rest of the country are two different worlds.

The project is led by travel writer Keith Widyolar , a marketing and communications consultant who builds brands and businesses through public, media and government relations. We can work for you too! Once or twice a week in your Inbox. We don't sell, rent or share your email. At the end, Fierro speaks of changing his name and living in peace, but it is not entirely clear that the duel has been avoided.

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