Sung by Ester Cadosh Israel. Tetuán, 1956.

The king loves his beautiful daughter-in-law and arouses the queen’s jealousy. So fierce is her wrath that she orders her son, Don Bueso to kill his wife, Blanca. When Blanca discovers her mother-in-law’s evil intentions, she bows to the inevitable, a son’s duty to his parents. However, moved by the sight of his wife and suckling child, Don Bueso kills his mother instead.

Don Bueso’ s wife
Went to mass,
She went dressed in silk
And fine scarlet cloth.

Her father-in-law is the king,
He loves her very much;
But her mother-in-law, the queen,
Was consumed by jealousy.

Her mother-in-law, the queen,
Was consumed by jealousy;
She slandered her
In front of her husband.

“Kill her, Don Bueso,
Kill Blanca Nina;
If you don’t kill her,
I cannot live.”

“Kill her, mother?
I will kill her;
But the little prince,
Who will raise him?”

Don Bueso went away,
Sad and angry;
From his eyes flow
Rivers and seas.

From his eyes flow
Rivers and seas
He found Blanca
Seated at her altar

He found Blanca
Seated at her altar,
The child in her arms,
Feeding at her breast.

“What’s the matter, Don Bueso
Why are you angry?
You always talk to me.
When you come to see me.

“You always talk to me
When you come to see me.
And now, Don Bueso
You do nothing but cry.”

“Seeing you, Blanca
I cannot deny
That my mother, so evil
Wants me to kill you.”

“Sharpen it well, Don Bueso
The blade of your knife
So when you cut her throat
It will not stain her dress.

“Sharpen it well Don Bueso
The blade of your knife,
So when you cut her throat
It will not dull the shine.

“So when you cut her throat
It will not dull the shine.
And when she comes in
She will find the dagger clean.”

Don Bueso sharpened it well
The blade of his dagger
On the head of his mother

Armistead: Vol. II, pg. 15 (L3)

Sung by Ester Cadosh Israel. Tetuán, 1956.

Mujer de Don Bueso
a la misa iría,
vestida iba en seda
y en la grana fina.

Su suegro es el reye,
mucho la quería;
su suegra, la reina,
celos le entraría.

Su suegra, la reina,
celos le entraría;
con él su marido
en mal la metía.

“Mataréis, Don Bueso,
a la Blanca Niña;
que si no la mata,
yo no seré viva.”

“De matar, mi madre,
yo la mataría;
más el niño infante,
¿Quién lo criaría?”

Ya se iba Don Bueso
triste y mal aireado
de sus ojos corren
los ríos y mares.

De sus ojos corren
los ríos y mares.
a encontrar a Blanca
sentada en su altare.

A encontrar a Blanca
sentada en su altare,
el niño en sus brazos,
dándole a mamare.

“¿Qué tenéis, Don Bueso,
que estás mal aireado?
Porque cuando entrabas
solías hablarme.

“Porque cuando entrabas
solías hablarme,
y ahora, Don Bueso
no haces más que llorare.”

“Que te vide, Blanca
no hay porque negarte,
mi madre, la mala
dice que te mate.”

Amolis, Don Bueso
bien, él tu cuchillo,
la degolladura
no manche el vestido

“Amolis, Don Bueso
bien, él tu puñale,
la degolladura
no manche el brillante

“La degolladura
no manche el brillante;
para la que entrare
que limpio lo halle.”

Amoló Don Bueso,
bien, él su puñale;
en cabeza de su madre
se le fue a probare.