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Steve Tilston
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Rio De La Miel
El Capitan, he eats like a bird,
Always he leaves a half empty plate.
He picks at the bones of his prisoners' fear
His true appetite is deciding men's fate.
The table is cleared, the leftovers saved,
Secretly taken down to the cave.
Where the one he pursues watches and waits.
El Duende waits but a stone's throw away.
Along the Rio, Rio de la Miel.
All of the honey bees have gone.
Along the Rio, Rio de La Miel,
Now with the red blood does run.
Deep in the shade he licks the plate clean.
El Duende dreams of sweet victories.
Republic restored, a full plate of meat.
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Fascist dogs driven into the sea.
He hears the cries of his comrades in arms,
Held in the bowels of the old paper mill.
Where El Capitan, with precision he probes.
Only the minimal sweat it is spilled.
El Duende slips under cover of night.
A lonely outpost the chosen prey.
From high above he swoops like a hawk.
By break of dawn, he's back in the cave.
El Capitan he leads his patrols,
Into the mountains, down to the sea.
He never does guess that right under his nose,
The scraps that he leaves, keeps El Duende free.
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