Armas, armas, caballero

Jerusalem National Sound Archives placement: NSA Y 3994/7 
Referenced and notated in: Romancero Sefardi de Marruecos, pg. 66, Editorial Alpuerto, Pardes Publishing House, 2018 Susana Weich-Shahak.

Count Alvarez (Grimaldos, Grismale,  Prismare, in other versions), was well received by the king and married to the princess, the infanta,  but lost the favor of the king by the slander of the envious knights, which results in the confiscation of his property and in his banishment. Montesinos is born in the exile of his parents whom he will then avenge.This romance explores a theme found exclusively in the Sephardic repertoire of Morocco: the story of a hero with mythical traits, marked by extraordinary circumstances surrounding his birth and his exceptional talents and precocious nature.

Text:
Armas, armas, caballero,     las que solían armare,
cartas me hubieran venido   del rey de la Cristiandade:
que el rico, con su riqueza,  no debe de alinajarse,
y el pobre, con su pobreza,   no debe menospreciarse.
Esto lo digo, señores,      por el conde, don Alvarez,
que cuando vino a esta tierra,   viniera hecho un salvaje,
y el rey, con su merced,     le hiciera coronale
y le diera por mujer     a la infanta coronale.
Caballeros, con envidia,   con el rey le meten male:
que le han visto con la reina  en sus palacio[s] reales.
El día por la mañana     los buenos días le fue a dare.
- No quiero tus buenos días,   ni me los vengas a dare;
yo te destierro a tí, el conde,   de mis palacio[s] reales
y de todos los mis trigos,     lo que te doy yo es un pane,
y de todas mis haciendas      lo que te doy yo es un reale.
- Vete ahora, la infanta,    vete a casa de tu padre,
que tu padre me destierra    de sus palacios reales,
y de todos los sus trigos     lo que me da es un pane,
y de todas sus haciendas,     lo que me da es un reale.
- Contigo yo, el buen conde,    contigo me he de quedare.
Siete leguas no han andado,    el zapato se la cortare;
de los pies de la infanta    ya corre la fina sangre.
Y dónde los cogió la noche     en lo alto de un cijare
y ellos en estas palabras     los dolores que la daren.
- ¿Adó, el conde, mis parteras   que solían partearme?
¿adó, el conde, mis doncellas   que me solían cuidare?
¿adó, el conde, los mis caldos   que yo solía tomare?
Como esto oyera el buen conde  se tirara del cijare.
Y habló la criatura     con la gracia de Dios Padre:
- Si Dios me dejó vivir,   salir de estrecho lugare,
mataría yo al buen reye   y a la infanta, mi madre!
Ya  criaba la infanta,    ya cría hijo sin padre:
siete años no había tenido,  ya sabía cabalgare,
diez años no había tenido,    ya manejaba el puñale,
doce años no ha tenido,     ya sabía guerreare.
Matara al buen conde     y se sentara en su lugare.

Translation:
Arms, arms, my knight,     those I used to arm myself with,
letters would have come to me   from the king of Christendom:
that the rich, with their wealth,  should not boast of their lineage
and the poor, with their poverty,   should not despise themselves.
I say this, gentlemen,      for the count, Don Alvarez,
who when he came to this land,   came as a savage,
and the king, with his mercy,     made him a crown prince
and gave him the crown princess     as his wife.
Gentlemen, with envy,   they speak ill of him to the king:
saying they have seen him with the queen  in his royal palaces.
In the morning, he went to greet her for a good morning.
- I don't want your good morning, nor do I want you to give it to me;
I banish you, the count, from my royal palaces,
and from all my wheat, what I give you is a loaf of bread,
and from all my estates, what I give you is a coin.
- Go now, princess,    go to your father's house,
for your father banishes me    from his royal palaces,
and from all his wheat     he gives me a loaf of bread,
and from all his estates,     he gives me a coin.
- With you, good count,    I will stay.
They haven't walked seven leagues,    and the shoe cut her foot;
from the feet of the princess    fine blood is already flowing.
And where did night catch them     on top of a hill
and as they spoke     she received the birth pains 
- Where, Count, are my midwives   who used to deliver me?
Where, Count, are my maids   who used to care for me?
Where, Count, are my broths   that I used to drink?
When the good Count heard this,  he threw himself from the hill.
And the child spoke with the grace of God the Father:
- If God lets me live,   I will leave this narrow place,
I will kill the good king   and the princess, my mother!
The princess was raising a child without a father
He was not yet seven years old, but he already knew how to ride a horse
he was not yet ten years old, but he already knew how to wield a dagger
he was not yet twelve years old, but he already knew how to fight.
He killed the good count and took his place.