Our Lady of Almortão,
Oh my beautiful border girl!
Turn your back to Castile:
Don't try to be Castilian!
Our Lady of Almortão,
Your chapel smells;
It smells of clover, it smells of roses,
It smells of orange blossoms!
Our Lady of Almortão,
For this year, I promise nothing.
For my love has died,
And I'm always dressed in black.