El Lavaplatos
By Jesus Osorio and Manuel Camacho (Victor 46944), 1930
This corrido tells the story of a man who dreams about being a movie star and migrates to California after the Mexican Revolution. He works in the fields and later gets a job as a dishwasher. The narrator returns to Mexico, where he’s forced to admit that his movie stardom will never come. The corrido can be interpreted as either a comedy or a tragedy, and its popularity led to many other songs about repatriation and the disillusionment which many Mexican immigrants felt after coming to the U.S.
Spanish
Soñaba en mi juventud
Ser una estrella del cine
Y un día de tantos me vine
A visitar Hollywood
Un día, muy desesperado
Por tanta revolución
Me pasé para este lado
Sin pagar la emigración
¡Qué vacilada, qué vacilada
Me pasé sin pagar nada!
Al llegar a la estación
Me tropecé con un cuate
Que me hizo la invitación
Ee trabajar en el traque
Yo el traque me suponía
Que sería algún almacén
Y era componer la vía
Por donde camina el tren
¡Ay que mi cuate, ay que mi cuate
Cómo me llevó pal traque!
Cuando me enfadé del traque
Me volvió a invitar aquel
A la pizca del tomate
Y a desahijar betabel
Y allí me gané indulgencias
Caminando de rodillas
Como cuatro o cinco millas
Que dieron de penitencia
¡Ay que trabajos tan mal pagados
Por andar arrodillados!
Mi cuate, que no era maje
Se siguió dándole guerra
Y al completar su pasaje
Se devolvió pa’ su tierra
Yo hice cualquier bicoca
y me fui para Sacramento
Cuando no tenía ni soca
Tuve que entrarle al cemento
Ay, que tormento, ay, que tormento
Es el mentado cemento
English
I dreamed in my youth
Of being a movie star
And one of those days
I come to see Hollywood
One day very desparate
Because of so many revolutions
I crossed the border
Without paying the immigration fee
What a fast one, What a fast one
I crossed without paying anything
When I arrived at the station
I ran into a friend
Who invited me
To work on “The Track”
I thought “The Track”
Would be some kind of store
And it was to repair the road
Where the train ran
Oh, my friend! Oh, my friend!
He took me to the track
When I became angry with the track
He invited me again
This time to pick tomatoes
and gathering of beets
And there I earned indulgence
Walking on my knees
Four or five miles
They gave me as penance
Oh, what work, and so poorly paid
For going on one’s knees
My friend who was no fool
Continued giving them a bad time
And on completing enough for his fare
He returned to his land
And I earned but a trifle
And I left for Sacramento
When I had nothing
I had to work with cement
Oh, What a torment, oh, what a torment
Is that famous cement
