| CORUS |
| 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 shoul a foreign enemy |
| Profane your land with his sole, |
| Think, beloved fatherland!, that heaven |
| gave you a soldier in each son. | | |
| 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 valley |
| The terrifying cannon thunder |
| And the echoes nobly resound |
| To the cries of Union!; Liberty! | | |
| Fatherland, Before your children become unarmed |
| Beneath the yoke their necks in sway. |
| May your countryside be watered with blood |
| Over blood your foot stamps. | | |
| 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. | | |
| 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 some olive garlands! |
| For them a memory of glory! |
| For you a laurel of victory! |
| For them a tomb of honor! | | | |
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