Jarcha is an Andalussian folk group, formed at Huelva in 1972 by Mª Isabel Martín, Lola Bon, Antonio A. Ligero, Ángel Corpa, Crisanto Martín, Gabi Travé y Rafael Castizo. Music bassed on traditional and folklore Andalussian music, with their own lyrics or of poets, Andalussian above all, such Rafael Alberti, Federico García Lorca, Salvador Távora, Miguel Hernández, Blas de Otero, etc. This song belongs to his first LP, Nuestra Andalucía (1974), and is writen and compossed by one of his members, Juan José Oña. It’s a song that talks about many of the troubles of Andalussia during those years: chieftainship (called in the south as señoritismo), poverty of the farm workers and fishermen, land speculation (because of tourism, many times), etc. Many of those problems last yet today…
Nuestra Andalucía
Son los olivos verdes de señoritos
que sudan gruesas gotas en los casinos,
mientras que allá en el campo, los labradores
han de regar la tierra con sus sudores.
Éste es el fruto:
sirve p’a darle al amo
todos los gustos.
Y son las verdes viñas de caballero
que en placeres de cama gastan dinero,
y recogen la uva vendimiadores
por las dos gordas que les dan los señores.
Por eso el fruto
sigue dándole al amo
todos los gustos.
Tienen los pescadores rotas las redes
de no poder secarlas donde ellos quieren,
porque sobre la arena los rascacielos
cambian a los turistas sol por dinero.
Los constructores
les darán la puntilla
a los pescadores.
Éste es el panorama de nuestra gente,
"que se quejan de vicio",
dice el pudiente (jejeje).
Con la renta per cápita que nos asignan
tenemos para ¡leche!, pan y sardina.
La moraleja:
los lamentos del pobre
siempre son quejas.
Our Andalussia
The green olive-trees are of the masters/ that sweat gross drop at the casinos,/ meanwhile out in the field, the farm workers/ must to water the soil with their sweat./ This is the fruit:/ it helps to give the owner/ every pleasure.// And the green vineyards are of sirs/ who in bed pleasures spend their money,/ and the grape are pciked by vintagers/ for the two coins the masters give them./ By that the fruit/ keeps giving to the owner/ every pleasure.// The fishermen have their nets broken/ of cannot dry them up where they want to,/ because upon the sand the skycrapers/ change sun for money to the tourists./ The constructors/ will give the final blow/ to the fishermen.// This is our people’s outlook,/ “that complain for the sake of it”,/ sais the wealthy man (hehehe)./ With the per capita income they assign us/ we have for milk, bread and sardine.// Moral: the poor’s laments/ are always grumbles.
Letra y música: Juan José Oña
La Zamarra de Gustavo 