My feet, they are naked, my hands on my hips, my eyes to the ocean and open my lips. Eeeee-aaaaa ooooh los pescadores. They come with a crash on the crest of a roar, and they’re out of their boats and they’re on to the shore. Eeeee-aaaaa ooooh los pescadores. And they wrench with the rain and they strain with the rope, they dig I the sand and they bend to the smoke. Eeeee-aaaaa ooooh los pescadores. And the weight of the men and the sound of the sea, the hardness of them and the softness of me. Eeeee-aaaaa ooooh los pescadores. And I'll stand with the fishermen, silent and gay, I’ll eat of the sun and I'll drink of the spray. Eeeee-aaaaa ooooh los pescadores. Eeeee-aaaaa ooooh los pescadores.