| Lyrics: | CHORUS
Mexicans, at the cry of battle
lend your swords and bridle;
and let the earth
tremble at its center
upon the roar of the cannon.
Your forehead shall be girded, oh
fatherland, with olive garlands
by the divine archangel of peace,
For in heaven your eternal
destiny
has been written by the hand of God.
But should a foreign enemy
Profane your
land with his sole,
Think, beloved fatherland, that heaven
gave you a soldier in each
son.
CHORUS
II
War, war without truce against who would attempt
to blemish the honor
of the fatherland!
War, war! The patriotic banners
saturate in waves of blood.
War, war!
On the mount, in the vale
The terrifying cannon thunder
and the echoes nobly resound
to
the cries of union! liberty!
CHORUS
III
Fatherland, before your children become
unarmed
Beneath the yoke their necks in sway,
May your countryside be watered with
blood,
On blood their feet trample.
And may your temples, palaces and towers
crumble in
horrid crash,
and their ruins exist saying:
The fatherland was made of one thousand heroes
here.
CHORUS
IV
Fatherland, fatherland, your children swear
to exhale their breath
in your cause,
If the bugle in its belligerent tone
should call upon them to struggle with
bravery.
For you the olive garlands!
For them a memory of glory!
For you a laurel of
victory!
For them a tomb of honor!
Sent by Carlos Andr Pereira da Silva Branco |
