One morning in Bolivia. The leader of the partisans and two of his companions. Were forced to flee the mountains for their lives. Through green and dusty villages they sped along the little roads.
My love, my pride, my treasure, O. My wonder new and pleasure, O. My son, my beauty, ever You. Who am I to bear You here?. . The cause of talk and tale am I.
Bright as the sun in the dark night air. There appeared a heavenly light. To guide the wise men to the King of hope. Who was born on Christmas night. The wisdom child and his mother mild.